


sad eyes, bad guys, mouth full of white lies

by oathkeptroxas



Series: White Lies 'verse [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Green Arrow (Comics), Green Arrow - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics)
Genre: Addiction, Alternate Universe - Normal High School, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Roy, Child Abandonment, Child Death, Demisexual Gay Jason, First Love, Friendship/Love, High School AU, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Night Terrors, No Superheroes AU, Non-explicit underage sex (roy/others) but no cheating, Past Character Death, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, Underage Smoking, Violence, discussions of overdose, mentions of:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-12 06:26:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 88,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5655910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oathkeptroxas/pseuds/oathkeptroxas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy Harper is the ward of billionaire Oliver Queen and resident bad boy. He's combating his issues with self-destructive behavior.<br/>Jason Todd is the ward of billionaire Bruce Wayne, who is eager to put his tragic childhood behind him.<br/>Roy isn't happy about having a tutor at all. But appearances are deceiving, and an unlikely friendship may just become more.<br/>(No superheroes, High School AU. Pre-52 origins and characterizations.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There were few things that Roy Harper had left to call his own.

  
The house he lived in, though large and luxurious, never really felt like a home to him. He had reveled in it upon his arrival. He had been young and wide-eyed and in awe, completely unaware that there were truly people who lived in places so grand. For the first time in his life, he didn't want for anything, could receive anything he asked for at the drop of a hat. Though he had never been a materialistic person by any means, like any child would, he got sucked in by the glamour of a whole new lifestyle. The house was truly a mansion, on grounds so large the whole property was an estate. The Queen Estate was spacious, but as time wore on, all of that room that he was once so enamored by just mocked him with its emptiness. It was like having his own place with how often he found himself living alone. Roy had never had to spend much time alone before he moved, before Oliver had taken him in. He hadn't truly known how damaging loneliness could be.

  
As he got to the foot of the stairs, reluctantly getting ready for the day of school ahead, he spied the red flashing light of the answering machine. There was a voicemail from Ollie that he'd never bothered to listen to. It had been there for a few days now, and sometimes Roy glanced at it and thought about picking up the phone. But he'd learnt long ago that Oliver would only have a minute to spare him, if he bothered to answer at all. He'd long since stopped listening to those messages, they were all variations of the same basic sentiment.

  
With a deep sigh Roy shouldered his backpack, and once again wondered why Oliver Queen, billionaire playboy that he was, had even considered taking in a child. Whatever had prompted that decision was clearly no longer relevant. Oliver obviously regretted the choice, because if he truly wanted Roy around surely he'd be home to spend time with him. Though he knew the two of them had little in common, from their vastly different ages to their totally different lifestyles and upbringings, Roy still wished that Oliver had made more effort in the very beginning, when it mattered. Maybe if that had been the case, They could've had the father-son relationship people would've expected them to.  _Whatever_ , at nearly 17, Roy was passed the point of needing him anyway.

  
Still, Roy went everyday wondering what he'd done to essentially drive Oliver out of his own house. Regardless of how much someone enjoyed travelling, they couldn't possibly be out of their own home for so long, could they? There had to be a reason why Oliver didn't return more frequently. 

  
The walk to school was tiresome, as always, and he knew that he could call a car at any time, it wasn't like the fare would put a dent in Ollie's wallet. But, he found that he missed the open land and fresh air of the reservation, and liked to be outdoors as much as possible. The walk was calming. He ran his hands haphazardly through thick auburn hair, and sparked up a cigarette for the way. He popped in his headphones, needing music to drown out the sound of passing traffic, he let _Zep's_ ' _Ramble On_ ' and the harshness of smoke accompany him to the school grounds. He crushed the butt of his cigarette underneath a booted foot before heading to his first class of the day. He was only a little bit late.

The day passed uneventfully, there were spitballs and doodles in margins where there should have been notes. There was high quality cafeteria food that was plentiful and delicious and made Roy ever more grateful for Oliver's fortune providing him placement at one of the greatest schools in the country. It was perfectly mundane, and Roy found himself grateful for the routine of it. At least he always knew what to expect.

It wasn't that Roy didn't enjoy school, he just simply had trouble applying himself, he had been eager to learn and jumped at the prospect that this school could get him wherever he wanted to go. But, with Oliver being gone most of the time, Roy hadn't really had anyone to kick him into gear. He started staying up late without realizing, and then on purpose. His homework lay forgot as he marathoned classic horror movies. That, coupled with the fact that he really didn't have any friends at school, meant that he didn't have anybody to collaborate on projects with or bounce ideas off of. He was always the last picked for group work or sports teams, and that all only caused his work ethic and his interest in his education to plummet.

Before he knew it his grades had slipped considerably, and the knowledge of that just sent him spiraling further. Doubts crept in, he felt neglected and unappreciated and lonely, and suddenly 5000 words essays just didn't seem important at all, no matter how many times the teachers told him otherwise. The school would contact Ollie, and leave a message because he wouldn't be home. The blinking light of the machine would greet Roy when he came through the door and he'd delete the message without listening to it. And the vicious cycle would continue. 

When finally, blessedly the home bell sounded, Roy stuffed his things back into his bag and swung it over his shoulder. He retrieved his drumsticks and twirled them absently between his fingers as he headed for the door. He was only feet from the door, trying to repress his agitation as other students jostled him in their haste to finally be free.

"Mr. Harper!"

He halted, and with a muttered curse he glanced towards the door. So close, yet so far. But, the call of his name had cracked like a whip, and it was too late now to pretend he hadn't heard it. Begrudgingly, he turned back to see who'd addressed him. Mr Wilson stood in his office doorway, his arms crossed and his face grim. Wordlessly, he inclined his head and turned into the room, Roy sighed but followed behind him.

The next 10 minutes were tense, Mr Wilson explained that Roy's ever falling grades and continual tardiness were no longer excusable. He spoke of figures that Roy didn't care to comprehend, the lecture was nothing he hadn't heard before. But there was an underlying threat this time, something in the principal's voice that made Roy snap to attention. This time, for a change, the lecture was to be taken seriously. In short, if Roy wanted to continue his education at the establishment, he would have to agree to a tutor, simple as that.

Roy wasn't happy about the arrangement, far from it. Since moving in with Oliver at the age of 13, Roy had never really fit in with the other students. It was an expensive, high-profile school, and its students came from wealthy, high-profile families. Quite often their personalities reflected that of the typical, stuck-up rich kid. Roy really wasn't looking forward to spending time with one of them, not with the added ammunition of him needing a tutor. He ran a hand anxiously over his face. His daily routine was about to be disrupted, and Roy didn't have the patience to try and cooperate with another student.

Mr Wilson told him that the student in question was younger, only 15 to Roy's near 17. Apparently, the boy had transferred to the academy when he was 12, and though he hadn't previously studied any of the material this school covered, he still managed to surpass his classmates. Mr Wilson said he was dedicated, smart and was already studying at the same level as those Roy's age. Roy suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Not only was he being forced to spend time with another student, but they just _had_ to be a brainiac who most likely would relish in belittling Roy at every opportunity. He really didn't want to deal with a know-it-all kid who'd look down his nose at him as they worked.

But before Roy could offer up any form of protest - not that he really had a leg to stand on - Mr Wilson stood and headed for the door, leaving Roy in the chair with his head bowed. A minute or two later the teacher returned, towing a boy with him. The boy was noticeably shorter than Roy, and comically small when stood in such close proximity to the principal. He had thick black hair, and deep blue eyes. He wasn't wearing the tell-tale smirk of snobbery. Roy watched the guy's fingers twitch around the strap of his back, almost as if he was nervous. Roy nearly grinned to himself, maybe this wouldn't be so insufferable after all.

"Roy Harper," Mr Wilson began, but Roy didn't take his eyes off of the younger student, "meet your tutor, Jason Todd."


	2. Chapter 2

The terms were set, Roy had until the next school term to improve his grades and attitude. Jason was informed that Roy needed someone to motivate him, to help guide him through the work-loads. Roy's capability was never an issue. He could definitely complete the tasks set, he just rarely did. Roy was actually thankful that that particular piece of information was shared with his tutor, at least now the kid wouldn't think he was a total dumbass who didn't know shit from clay. But motivation was something that Roy found didn't come easy, especially when it came to academia.

But, in truth, Roy wasn't really committed to anything these days.

He liked drumming. It was escapism at the very least. To be a good drummer, you need to have rhythm, it's something you either have or you don't. Techniques can be learnt and practice earns improvement, but if you don't have rhythm you should just quit while you're ahead. Roy could drum. He was proud of it, he was skilled, he enjoyed it. No one could take it away from him. The weight of the sticks in his hands made him grounded, the vibrations as they traveled through the skins made him feel alive. Music was universal, a form of self-expression unlike any other. Roy had so much locked inside that he couldn't say, had no outlet for. He often lost himself in any number of his favourite songs. He took his frustrations out on his drum kit. It was one of the only things that ever held his attention anymore. 

At some point, he'd also developed a habit for twirling the sticks when nervous or agitated, and he was twirling them furiously now. Mr Wilson had ushered them from the office rather abruptly after the initial introduction. It had been awkward and stilted but Jason and Roy had shaken hands. They were now stood opposite one another, both with their heads down; Roy's drumsticks were spinning and Jason's grip was clenching on the clasp of his bag.

Roy cleared his throat and quickly shoved his drumsticks into his back pocket, before turning to fully address the other boy. He knew this arrangement was unavoidable, but he didn't have to pretend to like it. He certainly didn't want to be standing around awkwardly waiting for one of them to figure out something to say. He opened his mouth to speak but halted abruptly when he saw the look on Jason's face. The other boy was frowning slightly, an irritated furrow adorned his brow. Roy wondered what he had to be irritated about, it wasn't like _he_ was being forced into tutoring. Finally, Jason looked up, his gaze snapping to Roy's.

"Okay, look, I know you don't want to do this. But, this is gonna look really good on my college application. So, I'm committed to seeing this through. You don't have to like me. I don't expect us to be friends. But, I guess I wanted you to know that I'm taking this seriously, if you are."

Roy wasn't expecting the other boy to say much to him at all, let alone let out the firm, little rant. He appreciated Jason's upfront and no-nonsense attitude, it was refreshing to say the least. Anything that Roy may have said died before he could give voice to it, he flashed him a smirk, almost unable to help himself. A small part of him wanted to see if he could push his luck with this kid, but he seemed earnest enough. Roy couldn't ignore the fact that there was something about Jason that got his back up a little. Perhaps it was the way that Jason so obviously had set ambitions, had his shit together. Maybe Roy felt a little inferior in the face of it.

Roy sometimes felt that he was at war with himself. If he succeeded in school then maybe Ollie would be proud of him. But also, _fuck Ollie anyway_ , why should he have to proof anything to him? And maybe if Roy really destroyed himself one day, Oliver would notice what his absence had done. Maybe it would hurt _him_.

It was a twisted logic. On some level Roy knew that he was only hurting himself in the long-run. But, Roy couldn't help but think about how happy he'd been before Oliver had taken him in, not that he wasn't grateful for all that Oliver had done, it was just that Roy didn't fit in this way of living. _It just wasn't him_. He sometimes felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb, that he was wearing some neon sign. Even though there was nothing about his outward appearance that would declare ' _outsider_ ', that didn't mean he didn't still feel like one.

And now this Jason kid was stood there talking about college and taking things seriously when he was 15 years old and born with a silver spoon in his mouth. No fucking way.

"Y'know what, kid? _Fine_. I'mma do this 'cause I don't much have a choice. But, don't expect shit from me, I don't do well with expectation, and I don't need some stuck-up brat dictating to me."

Roy knew the words were harsh even as he was saying them, but he often fell into the trap of making himself angry and lashing out with it. Jason didn't deserve his sharp tone, had done nothing to warrant the insult.

Roy clamped his teeth down on his bottom lip, unwilling to say more and too stubborn to take the words back. He saw a flicker of something in Jason's eyes, a glint of something hard as flint. The younger boy's mouth twisted into a grim frown. He looked _pissed_ , a little sad, but mostly just reserved. He regarded Roy with an unfathomable expression, his eyes still like steel. And Roy simply scoffed and made to turn away, he threw an off-hand "see you around" over his shoulder. He didn't look back.


	3. Chapter 3

The ride home was silent. But that wasn't the first clue that something different had transpired this school day. No, the first tip had been the fact that Alfred had been parked, idle at the curb for nearly 15 minutes waiting for Jason to leave the school building. Despite Jason's obvious preoccupation and uncharacteristic silence,the butler didn't ask, he was confident that Jason would speak when he was ready. He missed the enthused chatter that usually accompanied their journey, nevertheless.

Wordlessly, Jason dropped his bag at the foot of the stairs and hooked his jacket over the banister when they arrived at the manor, before heading into the kitchen. He retrieved a bottle of water and sat at the table, watching Alfred work as the man took a selection of vegetables to the chopping board. He sighed a little, and spun the bottle top on the tabletop before him.

"Jason,"

The boy in question startled at the sound of his name and glanced up to see his guardian leaning in the doorway.

"Don't forget to take your things with you to your room when you head up. Please, don't leave them in the foyer," Bruce Wayne reminded, a fond smile in place.

"I won't, Bruce. I promise."

Seeming satisfied, Bruce came to sit beside his young ward, ruffling his hair as he pulled out a stool. He spoke again.

"How was school?"

The same question every weekday for the last 3 years, and the replies - though varied - were usually positive and enthusiastic in nature. Jason had always been eager to learn, everything and anything. He had spent quite some time in public libraries throughout his childhood, sometimes just to get out of the cold, wet streets for a few hours. It had led to him being quite an avid reader, in a number of subjects and genres. So, it surprised Bruce when Jason sighed a little, giving a simple, off-hand "It was okay, I guess."

Bruce cocked an eyebrow, and Alfred paused in his task to glance over his shoulder at the pair. The two men shared a look, both of them growing increasingly concerned about Jason's sullen mood. Bruce shifted in his seat, suddenly uncertain as he gently nudged Jason's shoulder with his own.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked.

Jason shrugged and huffed out a little sigh again. Honestly, the school day had been good, much the same as every other. He enjoyed the material he studied. He had friendly and polite conversation with his fellow classmates, though he wasn't particularly close to any of them, but that had never bothered him. It had been perfectly mundane for the most part, if anything he'd even been excited. He'd been overjoyed when Mr Wilson had approached him about the tutoring, his mind had raced with all the benefits and opportunities it could give him. He'd been a little naive to not consider how the other student might have felt about it. In any case, his initial enthusiasm had been extinguished.

Jason was a little irritated with himself for letting the older boy's words get to him. He didn't know why he was so bothered by it, but he felt affronted by the entire exchange. It wasn't his fault the guy needed tutoring. Jason was confident that whatever the problem was, they could get it straightened out in no time. If Roy would just get over himself long enough to cooperate then this whole process could end up quick and painless. He was willing to help, he liked the work and it would definitely add points in his favour when he started applying to colleges. He didn't see the downside, until he actually met Roy Harper, at least.

Jason relayed the encounter to his father figure. He was a little annoyed that he'd been accused of being 'stuck-up'. He knew that Roy didn't know him from Adam, he knew that the collective mindset of the vast majority of the student body didn't take kindly to outsiders. And from Roy's words, it was reasonable to conclude that he lumped himself into the category. Jason reasoned that maybe both he and Roy had joined the academy unconventionally, but Roy wouldn't have known that by looking at him. Though Jason wanted to erase the misconception Roy had of him, to do so would open a whole can of worms that he'd really rather not. It wasn't like he owed Roy Harper anything anyway.

Bruce listened attentively, suggested that it seemed that Roy was dealing with things himself and Jason just happened to be there. Roy had just been told he was flunking, maybe that had upset him more than he'd let on. Jason conceded to his guardian's point. He decided to just wait it out. If Roy had needed an outlet and Jason had just been the nearest available target, then there wasn't much to be done about that now, but at least in that case it wasn't personal. Jason would just continue to do what he was asked to and not concern himself with the attitude of a stranger. Feeling a lot better, he headed upstairs to complete his homework before dinner.

* * *

 

The next morning was a nightmare for Roy. He'd raided Ollie's liquor cabinet almost as soon as he'd gotten home. He didn't want to dwell on the events of the school day for a moment longer. Bizarrely, he felt truly guilty for upsetting Jason. His guilt and his shame at his failing grades, combined with his loneliness at coming home to that big empty house, all drove him straight to the drink. He hadn't gotten himself completely trashed, just drank enough to allow his sleep to be dreamless, to shut out his thoughts. When he awoke the next morning, he was dealing with a slight headache as a consequence. And to make matters worse, his lighter was out of gas, and he had been denied his morning smoke. The walk seemed to take much longer than it ever had before, he was just grateful it wasn't raining.

As he approached the school building he spotted the kid - Jason - step out of a flashy car and wave goodbye to the driver with a grin. Roy nearly scoffed, of course he'd have a chauffeur. But Roy watched in bewilderment as Jason - as soon as the car was out of sight - scrambled up the front steps, and completely ignored the main door in favour of dashing around the corner and behind the cover of the surrounding shrubbery. With a confused frown, Roy followed after him. 

The odour of cigarette smoke hit him first, quickly followed by the sound of a heavy sigh. He rounded the corner to see Jason, leaning casually against the wall, his backpack at his feet and a cigarette between his lips. Roy masked his shock and recovered quickly. Maybe he would get a morning smoke after all.

"Hey there," Roy ventured.

Jason spluttered and coughed around the drag he'd just taken, whirling to look at Roy with the perfect imitation of a deer in headlights. He was speechless. For the first time Roy considered that maybe there was more to Jason than Roy had first anticipated.

"You got a light?" Roy smirked.


	4. Chapter 4

Jason composed himself quickly and couldn't help but scowl at Roy's cocksure expression. In the years that he'd attended the academy he'd been trying to kick his smoking habit, and this was the first time he'd ever been caught. He didn't like relying on a stranger to keep his secret, especially one that didn't seem to like him very much. But there was nothing to be done about it now. Wordlessly, he flicked his lighter, holding out the flame for Roy to spark up. A few seconds passed in tense silence as they smoked their respective cigarettes.

If Roy had seemed like the kind of student to belong to any sort of clique, Jason might've been a bit more concerned about the boy knowing his secret. A lot of the students they went to school with kept together in small clusters, they all came from wealthy families and if their parents were associates then usually the children had grown up together. They stayed close throughout school, if one of them knew something,  _they all did_ ; and usually their parents did too. Jason didn't know who Roy's friends were, but by the way the other boy had spoken upon their first meeting, it was an educated guess to assume that he was not a part of one of those close-knit groups. So, it stood to reason that even if Roy had any inclination on spreading word of Jason's smoking, there'd be no one for him to tell. Very few members of the student body would ever take his word over Jason's anyway.

Jason knew that Bruce had many, many colleagues and associates, people who donated and attended various galas. Bruce had taught Jason the importance of keeping up appearances, stating that he didn't personally like or enjoy the company of the people he attended such events with, but it was a necessary part of the business, to make connections and establish business opportunities. Luckily, because Bruce generally kept to himself outside of such events, Jason didn't see any of those kids outside of school and the occasional charity dinner. It had been easy for Bruce to bow out of hanging around with these wealthy couples and their offspring, he had been a childless bachelor, and that in itself meant that no one expected him to hang around with full families. When Bruce had taken Jason in, everyone was understanding of his need to 'settle in', even though Bruce had never had to indicate such a thing. A lot like his guardian, Jason liked to spend as little time as possible around the cliques. They were rather overwhelming, and spent more time bragging and trash talking than actually engaging in genuine conversation. He was polite and outwardly friendly, but preferred to deal with them in small doses when possible. Jason knew that if any one of them ever caught wind of his habit, it would undoubtedly find its way back to Bruce.

Jason wasn't proud of his smoking. He knew it was a nasty habit, that he was far too young for. But, he'd been in a desperate situation where cigarettes were a weapon he utilized, nicotine fights both stress and appetite, and those were things that plagued Jason daily. At the time, when faced with such things, smoking just didn't seem like such a big deal. Naturally, he'd gotten addicted. He didn't want Bruce to be disappointed in him, Jason was confident that he could kick this habit alone. He'd already managed to get himself down to smoking only 2-3 a day. On some days he'd only have the one in the morning. He was getting there.

Roy was somewhat of an enigma. Bruce hadn't recognized the boy's name when Jason had brought him up, which in itself was strange. There weren't many people that Bruce Wayne didn't know, and all the students at the academy had to have parents or guardians that could afford the tuition. Jason didn't have much information to go on, but what he knew about Roy so far was leaving him with more questions than answers, and against his better judgement, he couldn't help but be curious.

In his peripheral, Jason could see the other boy's shoes lightly kicking at cement, the fingers of his free hand tapped a beat absently on his thigh. Roy cleared his throat and Jason looked up from watching the boy's fingers play out their tune, and met his eyes.

"I- uh...About yesterday..." Roy began, seeming unsure, and his some-what shaggy hair fell to obscure his gaze slightly. "I get that this wasn't your idea...you're just kinda goin' with it. But, I guess I was just kinda pissed at _the whole thing_ , y'know?"

Jason furrowed his brow as he listened. He quickly stamped out his cigarette, he popped some minty-fresh gum in his mouth immediately after and fished in his bag to spray himself with deodorant to mask the odor of smoke. He appraised Roy carefully, with an eyebrow cocked as if daring him to say anything. Roy didn't comment, though he looked almost amused by the display. Jason figured that this would be the closest he'd get to an apology, but he hadn't been expecting one at all, so he couldn't complain. He could understand why Roy was pissed, no one really liked being called out, no one really enjoyed confrontation. But, at the same time, Roy had gotten himself into this mess, hadn't he?

"It's cool." Jason waved him off lightly. There was no point in keeping hard feelings. "I'll tell you what, I'll meet you in the cafeteria for lunch. We'll look over our schedules and find out what works best, 'kay?" He reasoned, not interested in dragging this awkward encounter out longer than necessary. Roy could think things over during his morning classes.

Roy smirked again, looking almost grateful before giving Jason a small nod. "Sure."

They parted ways and for the first time Roy thought that maybe this whole ordeal wouldn't be so bad after all. He was almost looking forward to lunch, he could just eat and let the younger boy set up a timetable, Roy was free whenever. He had band practice on Fridays and he went out most weekends, but on school days he usually did a whole lot of nothing, it shouldn't be too difficult for the two of them to come to a consensus on when to meet.

Roy was more than a little surprised to find the younger boy smoking. Roy might be a smoker himself, but on some level he knew that he was acting out, that the people he spent his time with weren't positive influences, and his rebellion was the one thing he had that was really _his_. His smoking was simply a byproduct of that reality. It may even have been a cry-for-help type scenario, but Roy wouldn't dwell on that.

It was becoming abundantly clear that Jason Todd was not some typical rich kid. Roy was more than a little intrigued.


	5. Chapter 5

Lunch time came faster than Roy had anticipated. His standard school routine often dragged with how predictable it had become, but now he had new things on his mind to keep him occupied. His morning had been spent mulling over what he'd found out about his tutor thus far and he had to admit - even if only to himself - that his initial perception of Jason couldn't have been further from the truth. The intricacies of Jason's character were largely still unknown to him, but there was a mysterious air about him, a puzzle to be solved. If nothing else, trying to figure out who exactly Jason Todd was would keep him entertained far more than anything else at the school so far.

There was a small part of Roy that wanted to apologize for how abrupt and ill-mannered he'd been with the other boy. But, he was far too proud to let Jason know that he regretted the way their first encounter had gone. Roy conceded that he'd had good reasons for thinking that Jason would be a certain way, and that anyone else in his position would have been equally cautious. Just because he'd been wrong, that didn't mean he had to apologize for his preconceived notions, he was sure Jason had also expected things of him, too. Certain perceptions were inevitable, and common place among the study body. An establishment as high society as the academy came with certain expectations of all those who attended.

So, lunch time found them sitting opposite each other at a small table in the far corner, papers spread before them as they came up with a plan. Jason took the lead, pawing over their respective schedules and highlighting the free time they shared. Roy just munched away on his food and nodded when appropriate, throwing in off-hand comments every now and then. Ultimately, he had very few prior obligations, and as long as whatever Jason proposed didn't conflict with his Friday or Saturday night plans, then he was willing to agree to anything.

There was a slight furrow that appeared between Jason's brows as he concentrated. Roy found himself grinning despite himself, the expression looked so serious, as though the subject of their tutoring schedule was of dire importance, and demanded Jason's undivided attention. Roy pondered briefly if that was just the kind of person that Jason was, who threw himself whole-heartedly into a project. Then he wondered why he even cared enough to ponder it. Though the expression amused Roy greatly, he also found it rather endearing, which was odd. Roy generally preferred to distance himself from his school peers, and it wasn't that he considered himself above them - rather the opposite - he simply assumed that they'd see him as beneath them, and he'd rather not set himself up for that inevitable judgment and rejection. He'd perfected the art of appearing aloof. It was less complicated. If you had low expectations, you were less likely to be let down. With that in mind, Roy didn't dwell much on thoughts of any of the other students, if he could help it. So the realization that he rather liked that look on Jason's face was rather startling. To him, it showed character.

Just as Roy was having these thoughts and speculations, Jason looked up and caught him staring.

"What?" He asked, almost affronted.

"Nothin'," Roy replied dismissively, shrugging slightly, "Your head does this crease thing when you're thinking, s'all."

"Okay..." Jason began, confused by the admittance. "What about it?"

"Nothin'," Roy insisted again, with another shrug, "I like it."

Jason raised a brow at that, and though Roy realized that it was an odd and perhaps a forward thing to say, he was unapologetic about it. He wasn't entirely sure why he liked that little furrow, but he reasoned it probably had something to do with the fact that Jason had looked so captivated, like what he was working on was important, was something he needed to get done right. Roy admired that kind of dedication, the idea that something that was perfectly mundane could be important to someone, important enough that they'd give it their undivided attention. So many people in this place had things handed to them, knew exactly where they were going to end up in life, and knew that they'd get there without struggle. Jason didn't seem like the others. He seemed genuinely interested in the work he did. Based on what Mr Wilson had said, Jason was an advanced student, intelligent and diligent. Jason himself had mentioned college applications. He seemed to have a steady head on his shoulders, and Roy found he both envied and admired that.

Whatever Jason was thinking, he didn't voice it. He handed Roy a few sheets of paper, indicating when they should meet. Times and places were circled and colour-coded, each subject having its own highlighter. Roy hadn't been expecting something quite so thorough, but the plan was simplistic and considerate of Roy's free-time. Jason had afforded him the time he'd requested without argument. Roy was grateful, and felt a pang of guilt at leaving Jason to set this up alone. They still had a few minutes left of their lunch break and they spent it exchanging friendly conversation.

"So, how long have you been drumming?" Jason asked suddenly, offering a little smile that looked genuine, like he was really interested. Roy couldn't remember if anyone had ever been interested in his drumming, his band mates aside. He felt a pang in his chest.

"Not long, about a year, I've always been interested, y'know? I went to this battle of the bands gig at a local club, and I don't know, guess I was inspired." Roy shrugged. "Bought myself a kit, taught myself to play, and a couple of months ago I went back to that bar, asked the guy who owned it if he knew any bands who needed a drummer." He explained, as if it wasn't a big deal, as if he wouldn't give anything to be able to drum for the rest of his life.

"You're self-taught? That's pretty impressive, dude. I get that it can be hard to stay focused on something that doesn't interest you, and I know school can get really boring, really fast. But, if you could just put a little of that passion you have for drumming, into getting your grades up, it won't take us long. I promise." Jason smiled again, a little broader now. 

He was impressed. Roy was clearly capable of applying a great deal of determination and perseverance, and though many people might have seen Roy's musical talent as a distraction, for Jason it was just proof that Roy was someone who was willing to work for what he wanted. It was simply a matter of getting Roy to want more for himself in his educational pursuits. All Jason needed to do was motivate him. He believed that the elder boy must care about his grades, it was just getting him to admit that and apply himself that was the issue, if he could do that, everything would fall into place. Roy had this air of arrogance to him, but years on the streets had honed Jason's senses when it came to reading people. He had the sneaking suspicion that Roy wore a front, that he acted like he didn't care because he thought it was easier. But, Jason really suspected that if Roy cared as little as he claimed, then he wouldn't have spent his entire lunch break watching Jason hash out intricate timetables.

Roy gave a small smile, ducking his head and rubbing absently at the back of his neck, as though uncomfortable with the praise. It was as if he didn't know to respond to it. For some reason as he watched Roy fidget, he was struck with the impression that Roy wasn't used to being complimented or encouraged. The thought made him a little sad. Maybe Roy's lack of motivation really just stemmed from a deprivation of encouragement?

"What about you?" Roy blurted after a few seconds of awkward silence, "You play any instruments?"

Jason shrugged a little and shook his head slightly, "I dabbled in guitar a little bit, I learnt a few songs, it wasn't something that I ever really pursued far, I liked it, but it was always a way to pass time."

Jason wanted to say more, wanted to tell Roy how admirable his pursuit of drumming was, regardless of what anyone else said. He wanted to tell Roy that it took a strong person to go after what they wanted, and he shouldn't let anyone tell him otherwise. He wanted to press for information, try to confirm his suspicions. But it would be rude and invasive, and unlikely to endear him to Roy. It wasn't exactly an appropriate thing to come out with during their first real conversation. 

Now that they were on equal footing, no false perceptions or defensive anger between them, they found they enjoyed each others company. It was what it was. If they were going to be working together for the perceivable future, it was nice to know that they'd be able to get along. It was unfortunate that they'd had no prior knowledge of each other. If they had been acquaintances - or at least known of each other - before being called to Mr Wilson's office, perhaps the tension wouldn't have been there at all. That thought gave Jason an idea.

Jason thrust his hand out, offering it to Roy in the space between them. "Let's start over," He suggested, "I'm Jason Todd, your tutor."

Roy smirked a little, couldn't help but find the whole ordeal a little funny. But Jason had this hopeful little grin on his face and Roy didn't have the heart to deny him. He appreciated the olive branch, regardless. He clasped his hand in Jason's and gave it a firm shake as he met Jason's eye. 

"Hi Jay, I'm Roy." He humored the younger boy, and thought it was more than worth it when Jason let out a little chuckle before relinquishing his grip.

The nickname came as a surprise. A lot of people called him Jay of course, why wouldn't they? It was a perfectly standard contraction of his name, and he welcomed it from anyone who used it. But, it just sounded a little familiar, considering that he and Roy didn't really know one another, couldn't yet call each other friends. Though he was surprised to hear it, it was a pleasant surprise, definitely a step in the right direction.

Things were looking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! :)


	6. Chapter 6

Roy woke up on Saturday to an obnoxious banging on the front door. He was wearing nothing but his lounge pants and he was certainly not in the mood to be dealing with anyone. But, with a heavy sigh he rolled himself out of his blanket cocoon, and with a long yawn and stretch, he padded down the stairs and through the foyer. The glass pane in the door was distorted, making it impossible to truly decipher who was on the other side, but the dark shape was relatively small, or so Roy thought.

Roy unlocked the door, and his eyes were drawn down to find Jason stood on the porch. It wasn't until then, with the patterned glass obscuring Jason's identity and leaving nothing but his height, that Roy realized just how much shorter than him the younger boy was. He was clearly awaiting a growth spurt, and at 15 Jason was sure to shoot up any day. Roy himself was still growing after all, but he'd done the vast majority of his shooting up over the previous summer, gaining at least 2 or 3 inches in height within a matter of months. But now that he was looking, compared to Roy's 5'9, Jason looked _tiny._ Roy would put him at around 5'2 or so at a guess.

They stood for a moment or two without speaking, with Roy confused by Jason's appearance and Jason uncomfortably fidgeting in place. Jason's gaze flickered over Roy, making the elder boy acutely aware of the fact he was shirtless, bed-rumpled and suitably perplexed. His hair was greasy and he knew he must have been sporting so obvious dark shadows under his eyes. He couldn't quite get his sleep-muffled brain to fill in the blanks for him, to comprehend why Jason would be here and if he should've known about it beforehand.

"What're you doing here?" Roy asked, his voice a little husky with disuse.

"Uh..." Jason began, his hand reaching up to rub nervously at the back of his neck. "We were supposed to study today?"

It came out sounding like a question, as if he was unsure, which obviously wasn't the case considering that he wrote up the timetable himself. But, Roy was sure that wasn't until noon. There's no way he would have agreed to an early morning meet-up on a Saturday. Then Roy caught sight of the clock in the hall. He cursed, and in his peripheral he saw Jason stiffen.

"I can go, it's no problem if you're not up to it. I would have text you when I was on my way over, but I didn't have your number." Jason explained. He felt a little bad that he'd obviously woken Roy up, but also slightly annoyed that Roy hadn't even remembered he was coming. This really wasn't giving him much confidence for the future of them working together.

Roy furrowed a brow. Jason hadn't done anything wrong, and Roy owed it to himself to commit to this tutoring thing. He sighed, and scrubbed a hand down his face to try and clear away the fast of sleep. Instead of sending the other boy away - though he'd be lying if he said he didn't think about it - he stepped back. He swept a hand out to gesture Jason inside.

"Nah, man. It's cool, it's my bad." Roy shrugged, and led Jason through to the sitting room. He grabbed his bag from the bottom of the stairs as they passed and dumped it on the coffee table. "All the stuff we need should be in there, I'll just go get dressed." Without waiting for a response, Roy heading back to his room to clean up and find some clothes.

Jason quickly went to work, digging out the different things they'd need and arranging them appropriately. Being left alone in the large front room, Jason couldn't help but survey the area. There was a games console on the floor, the wires visible and winding up and around the large TV, there was a half-eaten packet of jaffa cakes almost wedged down the side of the sofa cushions, a hoodie was hanging from the door handle. It looked lived in, but these were all indicators of Roy being in the room. There didn't seem to be any evidence of anyone else. There were no family portraits or framed photos at all, no haphazardly placed folders or coats or anything that would indicate an adult having been through.

Jason had asked Bruce about Roy's guardian, but Bruce hadn't known much. He'd said that he hadn't even known that Oliver had a child, said he didn't seem like the fatherly type. Bruce had said that Oliver wasn't one for dinner parties and charity galas, he was more prone to nightlife and parties and magazine tabloids. Jason wondered where Roy factored into a life like that. But, being in Oliver Queen's house now, Jason had the feeling that Roy wasn't included in much of what Oliver did at all. He thought back to his previous observations, about Roy's difficulty accepting praise. He remembered wondering if Roy got enough support at home. Pieces of the puzzle were coming together, and though Jason didn't like to jump to conclusions or make assumptions, he couldn't help but feel his assessment was right.

By the time Roy returned, Jason had all of the paperwork once again spread out on the table top. A highlighter was gripped tightly in one hand and the cap was held between his teeth. Roy watched the younger boy's blue-green eyes flicker over the text as he read. He saw how Jason wrinkled his nose in distaste at something, inadvertently drawing attention to the light dusting of freckles along the bring of his nose, no where near as obvious and dominate as Roy's own. Roy tilted his head a little in consideration, didn't fully understand why he liked looking at Jason so much. He decided not to dwell on it.

They worked companionably for a few hours. Jason was a patient tutor, and found ways to explain things so that they would apply to situations that Roy could appreciate and understand. There was an easy humor to their conversation, they laughed freely and it began to feel like they'd known each other a while, like they were truly becoming friends. They took a break for lunch and Roy made them both toasted sandwiches and large glasses of Sunny D. They sat on the floor between the coffee table and sofa, their knees brushed as their legs crossed. It was nice.

Jason liked Roy a whole lot more than he'd first envisioned. When Bruce had taken him in, Jason had just been so determined to put his head down and complete his studies, to make a life for himself and make Bruce proud. He hadn't really thought much about friends. There were a lot of students that he spoke to and was friendly with, but it just wasn't a priority for him at this stage in his life. Still, Jason found that being social with Roy wasn't a hardship at all, and he was beginning to think that there were more benefits to this tutoring business than brownie points with colleges.

It was starting to darken outside, and Jason knew that Alfred would be getting dinner ready. It was time he headed back to the manor. Even though a part of him had been apprehensive about coming to start this study session in the first place, he found himself reluctant to leave. With a sigh, Jason gathered up his things and packed his bag. Roy looked a little dejected all of a sudden and Jason didn't know what to make of it. Deciding not to comment, Jason began clearing away the plates from their lunch, but he stopped when Roy's hand encircled his wrist.

"Leave it, I've got it." Roy murmured and Jason set the plates back down.

"I should probably head out, I'm sure your guardian doesn't need some kid in his house when he gets home." Jason tried for light, but when he saw the sadness that seemed to encompass Roy he realized the weight of what he'd said.

From what Jason had discovered about Roy, he guessed that the boy spent a lot of time alone, and that it wasn't by choice. So, it seemed that Jason's foot liked to live in his mouth and he'd gone and upset Roy, which made him feel beyond awful. Jason would do almost anything to wipe that look off of Roy's face. Jason reached up his opposite hand to run the pad of his thumb over Roy's fingers, where they still held his wrist, just one comforting swipe that wasn't quite a caress. He gave the older boy a small smile before standing up, forcing Roy to break his light hold.

Roy stood too, and they stared at each other's shoes for a long moment. Jason once again spied the games console in his peripheral, and smiled to himself.

"How about you tutor me in that next time?" He suggested, gesturing to the machine. He hoped that the two of them would get opportunities to just hang out, studying aside, and that Roy would be interested in that too.

Roy smiled and Jason wanted to give himself a pat on the back. "Dude, I'm gonna destroy you on Tekken."

Jason just laughed loudly and mumbled "Can't wait."

Just as Jason was walking down the garden path to meet Alfred at the curb, he heard the door reopen behind him, and turned to see Roy running his way. Roy reached for one of Jason's hands and brought it up, scrawling his phone number and a crudely drawn smiley face on the back. "In case my lazy ass is still in bed again next time," He winked before disappearing back inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any and all feedback is appreciated! :)  
> it always amused me a little that jason was super tiny before his death and then red hood jason is like a tank <3


	7. Chapter 7

Almost as soon as Jason left, Roy missed his presence. It wasn't Jason personally that he missed, at least not exactly, it was more the case that Roy hadn't just hung out all day with anyone like that for a long time. Despite the studying, it had felt like they'd just been two friends, spending their Saturday together. It hadn't felt forced or stilted at all. Roy had worried that the tutoring would feel like a burden, that Jason would view him as an obligation. But, it truly hadn't felt like that at all, and he'd actually gotten work done - and enjoyed it! It made him a little nostalgic. He hadn't had such a fulfilling Saturday since before Oliver took him in. 

For the last 4 or 5 months or so his Saturdays had followed a routine. He'd drag himself out of bed in the early afternoon, lounge about, eat some food, and go to band practice with the guys. They'd practice a little, run through the set for their next gig, and then they'd lay around listening to music. They had a little ritual of sorts, where they'd take it in turns stating a band that they felt inspired by, then they'd sit around for an hour after practice listening to said band and passing a joint between them. So, despite the fact that Roy had enjoyed his day with Jason, and was rather proud of himself for the school work he'd completed and the enthusiasm he'd approached it with, he still had the same Saturday routine to attend to. He shrugged on his jacket and headed out, sparking up a cigarette for the way.

Nearly 3 hours later, he lay across the floor of the garage, the concrete floor rapidly helped to cool his sweat-slick skin. His hair was a tangled, greasy mess from all the exertion he'd put into a rather vigorous drumming session. Chucky rolled a generously sized joint before raising it to his lips. He took 2 large drags and exhaled slowly before passing it along, stoner etiquette. Everyone knew that you didn't take a single drag, there'd be way more passing than puffing if you did it that way.

By the time it was Roy's turn the haze of smoke had made it's way through the room, the smell was cloying and pungent, and if this had been a smaller and more confined space, they'd have a hotbox on their hands in the not so distant future. They might even get to that point without trying - not that it was ever a bad thing. A small smile touched Roy's lips as he breathed in deep, the taste hit the back of his throat, the second hit felt a lot smoother. He passed it along.

Roy had picked the music this week, and _Led Zeppelin_ \- though an obvious choice - was always his go to. There was no other band that inspired Roy greater. And the lyrics of _Whole Lotta Love_ provided the perfect soundtrack to finish off the evening. There were no words spoken between the exhausted but relaxed musicians. There was some humming along, feet or fingers tapping out the beat of the track, and a whole lotta smoking. And for the first time that week, Roy wasn't thinking about the big, empty house he'd have to return to, or what it meant that no one seemed to care where he was, or what he was doing.

 _You've been coolin', baby, I've been droolin',_  
_All the good times I've been misusin',_  
_Way, way down inside, I'm gonna give you my love_

* * *

 

Jason's evening progressed like most others, he ate dinner with Alfred and Bruce, and they both asked him for details of his day. He'd had a really great day. He loved Bruce and Alfred of course, but there was just something different about spending time with someone closer to his own age, someone who he genuinely seemed to get along with despite their initial misgivings about one another. Jason had already started considering Roy his friend, even if only within the privacy of his own mind. He babbled excitedly to Bruce about how this tutoring thing was so much fun. 

Bruce had always been a keen observer, and it certainly didn't escape his notice that his young ward spoke very highly of the other boy, regardless of the fact they really didn't know one another very well. It was surprising, especially considering how skittish Jason had been when he'd first been taken in. Jason had grown up with the belief that everyone was a potential threat, and it usually took him a considerable amount of time to truly warm up to someone. But Bruce was happy to see Jason so optimistic, nevertheless. However, it did concern the billionaire slightly that he'd had no knowledge of Roy Harper before Jason had brought him up. Surely, he would've been informed if another socialite had taken in a child around Jason's age. It had been all anyone talked about when Jason had come to live with him, and surely his peers would've thought it beneficial for Bruce to know if there was another child in a similar situation. Perhaps Jason and Roy would've been able to meet sooner if he'd known.

Oliver Queen certainly wasn't the fatherly type. Bruce briefly considered what that meant for the young boy in Ollie's care, but he trusted that if Jason had any serious concerns, he'd have told him. So, Bruce decided to leave it for the time being. He just smiled fondly as Jason relayed the events of his day.

As Jason was heading up to his room, he glanced down at the slightly smudged digits on the back of his hand, he smiled briefly. Without too much deliberation he retrieved his phone and quickly pecked out a simple text.

**[[text:]]:** _Hey it's jason :) i had a great time today_

Jason didn't receive a reply until the following afternoon. He didn't think too much of it, after waking Roy up at noon once already, he figured Roy had been sleeping all morning. The text said a simple _'you too :)'_ , but it appeased Jason. It was more than he'd been expecting. The message made him smile widely, and he found himself looking forward to school the next morning. He enjoyed school anyway of course, but there was something extra exciting about knowing that he'd be able to see Roy again. Jason just put it down to the great time he'd had with the other boy, and the possibility of having a real friend in the near future, if they continued to get on the way they had been.

It was definitely a concept worth getting excited about.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am trying very hard to be cautious with my pacing, there are a lot of different plot points that i want to utilize, each with a lot of potential i'd like to tap into. I don't want to dive into anything and want every point to have the attention to detail that it deserves.
> 
> Steadily from here onward the fic should get a lot heavier. As the tags state, there are some dark themes at play here. When I say drug use, i mean /drug use/, not just the quirky but inaccurate 'let's get high cos it's fun' that is often used in fic. I mean nitty-gritty with all it's awful side-effects. you have been warned. there will be a lot of heartbreak in this fic, if i can pull it off.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, Chucky was the name of one of Roy's bandmates (the guy they sent out to fetch their next fix), in Snowbirds Don't Fly, the 2 issue arc of Green Lantern Vol 2. that depicted Roy's heroin abuse.


	8. Chapter 8

As the next few weeks carried on, Jason and Roy developed a legitimate friendship. Roy was up to date with all his assignments for the first time in too long to remember. With less focus being put on the studying, now that Roy had shown considerable improvement, the boys spent more time just hanging out as friends. They both thrived socially now that they were spending time with someone else their own age. Roy found that Jason was quick-witted, with a dry sense of humour and a sharp tongue. He'd schooled the younger boy in many of the video games he had in his collection, and though Jason had little experience, he was fiercely competitive and Roy had to employ all of his skill to stay on top.

If Roy were being painfully honest, he'd laughed more in Jason's company than he had since before Brave Bow passed away, and though Roy was usually careful to watch his words, so that nothing too personal was revealed, he found with Jason he didn't feel that need quite as often. If he let something slip in front of Jay, he was able to get a little nostalgic and look back on his childhood with minimal pain. It was liberating. Jason didn't seem to want or expect anything from him. It was easy as breathing to be in each other's company.

But of course Roy never completely opened up about his feelings. He never let Jason know just how much he wished he could go back. Roy didn't even let himself dwell on it, it was too painful. He didn't think he would ever be comfortable enough with anyone to share some of his darker thoughts, so of his most damaging memories. But, with Jason, there were moments when Roy wanted to. He often felt that if he had to bare his soul to anyone, he'd want it to be Jay. Roy felt the searing pain of inadequacy every morning when he woke up to an empty house and a flashing light of another voicemail. But he couldn't talk about that. He didn't want or need his friend's pity. Jason was rather tight-lipped about himself, and Roy didn't pry, he knew there were some things that just had to be kept buried. But Jason had told him that he'd had to live on the streets, that Bruce Wayne had taken him in when he had no where to go, given him a roof over his head when he felt like he didn't deserve one.

Roy understood that feeling to an extent, though he could never contemplate the horrors Jason must have been witness to, maybe even victim of. Regardless, Oliver had taken him in and then acted like he regretted it. He was never around, and in the years that he'd lived in Oliver's house, Ollie had only been present for one birthday. Roy couldn't help but feel he was somehow at fault for Oliver's absence, was he driving Ollie out of his own home? He began to wonder if maybe he didn't deserve to be there at all. On his worst days, Roy wished he'd died with Brave Bow.

Sometimes Roy felt like Jason could see right through him, whenever they were talking and things got a little close to the mark, Jay would give him this look, that was a little sad and understanding but mostly fond, as if to say _'you don't have to talk about this now'_. Roy decided that his life was infinitely better when Jason was around. It wasn't even a startling revelation.

It was a dreary day, the rain was merciless and it pelted against the windows in powerful sheets. Jason and Roy finished up their lunches fairly quickly. Jason's leg was bouncing under the table, his hands were clasped tight in his lap and Roy knew he was stressed. He had a test coming up in his last class of the day and he was nervous. Jason was a dedicated and intelligent kid, no doubt about that. But, his education meant a lot to him, he was banking on it to carve a bright future for himself, he always got jittery before any kind of academic test or exam. Roy'd be lying if he said he didn't find it a little cute.

Roy placed a hand atop of Jay's knee to stop it jumping. The younger boy glanced up at him, his thick, dark hair fell into his eyes a little and he was visibly agitated. Roy sent him a little smirk that clearly said _'dude, chill'_

"Fuck. I need a smoke." Jason blurted. And with as pent-up as he was, it wasn't a surprise.

Roy inclined his head to the door, "Let's go then."

Jason shook his head immediately, black curls flying with the jarring movement, "Can't. It's storming out there. And we've got just over an hour before school let's out. I'd never dry in time, and there's no way I can explain that away to Bruce. He'd get suspicious."

Roy pondered that for a long moment, before an idea struck him. Wordlessly he shrugged out of his own over-sized, denim jacket, it was thick and high-quality, and layered with a thick hood. It would definitely stop any clothes underneath from getting damp. And with how much shorter than him Jason was, the jacket - a little large on Roy himself - would swamp him, come to his knees. Jason's trousers were thin and black, they'd likely dry in time, and even if they didn't, you wouldn't tell they were wet by looking at them.

Jason raised a brow at Roy and appraised the offered garment, Roy simply pressed it to the younger boy's chest.

"Just put it on. It'll keep you dry. Oliver's not even gonna be there when I get home. So who gives a shit if I get wet. C'mon."

Without waiting for a response Roy got up and headed for the exit. Jason slipped the jacket on and zipped it all the way to the top, following after Roy. He flipped up the hood as they walked out of the door. They joked and chatted as they smoked, Roy teased Jason for how the jacket seemed to dwarf him, but he had to admit he rather liked the sight of it. Jason kinda wanted to keep the jacket, not that he'd ever let Roy know that, but it was warm and comfortable and the extra room was appealing, and he imagined curling up to sleep in it. And when the bell for the final period rang and they stubbed out their respective cigarettes, Jason stepped out of the jacket mournfully, and handed it back to Roy with a smile of thanks.

They said goodbye softly, barely heard over the torrential downpour, and headed in opposite directions.


	9. Chapter 9

After weeks of spending a substantial amount of one-on-one time with the younger boy, Roy had to admit to himself that he was rather enamoured. The truth of it was that if they'd met under any other circumstances, their first encounter - which had gone anything but smoothly - would most likely have been their last. But they had been forced together, and looking back on it, Roy felt rather grateful.

There was something to be said about a friendship born from adversity. They'd overcome initial hurdles, and reassessed their views of each other. The reality was that Roy had never intended to like Jason. He hadn't wanted to like him.  _It just happened._  There had never been any getting around it. Knowing the situation involved with their meeting made Roy's feelings a lot more genuine, in his opinion. The connection they'd established felt a little inevitable.

Not to mention that Roy's grades were improving. Jason really was a good tutor, he gave his all to anything he was committed to. Jason was always so encouraging of the things that Roy did, wanted him to succeed. It had been a long time since Roy had felt that. Even though he was ever grateful for Jason's presence in his life, it was still slightly disheartening to know that his main support came from his young tutor, and not his legal guardian.

Oliver was home on this particular weekend. Roy had arrived from school on Thursday afternoon to find him laughing boisterously in the kitchen with 'uncle hal', though Ollie was the only one who actually bestowed him with that title out loud. As Oliver's best friend, Hal Jordan knew him better than pretty much anyone. Hal had no illusions about the kind of man that Oliver Queen was - not ever malicious but more often than not entirely clueless. Roy liked Hal. He knew that the pilot had tried on multiple occasions to talk to Ollie about his responsibilities, to no avail. It really was saying something that even Hal had dropped hints. Hal was the very definition of the 'fun uncle', he had no responsibilities of his own whatsoever, and happily so. The fact that someone like Hal would intervene was especially telling, and a true testament to how incredibly dense Oliver could be. Ultimately, regardless of his intentions and opinions, Hal's hands were tied, there was only so much he could do. But every time Roy came face to face with Uncle Hal, he'd get a soft - almost sad - smile and a 'how ya doin', kid?'.

Roy had told Oliver about the tutoring - not the extent or cause of his slipped grades, of course - but that there were things he struggled with, and Bruce Wayne's ward was helping him out. Ollie scoffed at the mention of the other billionaire, explaining that they knew more  _of_  one another than they actually knew each other. Apparently Oliver couldn't understand how someone with Mr Wayne's funds and resources was so opposed to the idea of fun. Roy didn't know Jason's guardian, they had yet to meet. But Roy still felt the odd urge to defend, to tell Oliver that people had different ideas of exactly what 'fun' was. Bruce had done so much for Jason, and seemed like a good-hearted, kind man. Besides, if Ollie knew how Roy spent his down-time, there'd be Hell to pay. Roy sometimes felt that he was acting the way he did to spite Oliver, and maybe there was a little truth in that, but ultimately Roy was someone who spent a lot of time alone. Without strict and consistent guidance, kids like him fell prey to peer pressure and wrong crowds. Sometimes Roy was so filled with conflicting emotions that the need to expel that feeling of being overwhelmed was impossible to resist.

Band practice on the Friday night was brutal, Roy took his frustrations out on his drum kit, sweat pouring from him as he drove himself harder, his rhythm unfaltering. Afterwards he stripped his shirt off and lay against the concrete floor, his slick skin creating a spread-eagle imprint beneath him. Battle of the bands was a week away, and the boys were amped up, working themselves hard. They needed to be ready. It was with that in mind that Chucky spoke up, he passed the joint to Roy before sharing his news.

"I was chattin' to one of the sound guys at the bar, right? I had to go check things out for the gig, discuss the equipment set-up. He's a good dude, knows his shit, y'know?" Chucky was animated, clearly had his mind set on whatever he was about to share. Roy let out a huff, finishing his drag before passing the stuff on.

"Said he could hook us up with some really good shit," Chucky continued, "good quality Blow. It keeps you up, up, up. All the confidence you need, instantly. And it'll keep us wired for the after party. Whether we win or not the night's gonna be a messy one, and we ain't missing a second of it."

The guys murmured enthusiastically, and Roy had to admit that it sounded good. This was their first competitive gig, and Roy had to admit it was nerve-wracking. He could do with an edge. He knew their set backwards, he could drum it in his sleep. As long as he had rhythm he could get it done, and every drummer has rhythm. He couldn't afford to let stage-fright become a hurdle. From what he knew of cocaine it was a stimulant like few others, instant gratification in the form of utter euphoria, king of the world kind of good. Roy could use that feeling. With a bump of his fist to Chucky's, it was a done deal. Bring it on. The other bands wouldn't know what hit them. Great Frog were gonna take the world by storm.

Joey - their bassist - dove to his backpack, his sudden movement jarring and unexpected amidst the happily stoned musicians. He flung a crumpled piece of paper in the center of their circle, a dopey grin on his face as he took back his seat. Roy rolled over to grab at it, flattening it out to find an illustration, a large green frog stared up at him, its eyes hypnotic swirls of yellow and blue, a crown atop its head. It was good.

"My sister's friend's an art student at the local college. Paid her a couple of dollars to sketch something up for us. Figured maybe we could make flyers," Joey explained, bouncing slightly in place, "Hey, maybe we could get jackets?"

Roy rolled his eyes, but folded the paper and stowed it in his back pocket. He'd scan it in when he got home, add the date, time and venue, proudly declare Great Frog. It was gonna be epic.

* * *

 

Monday morning found Oliver in the foyer, a duffle bag in one hand, ready for another world-round trip. He ruffled Roy's hair and gave him a smile that was a little too affectionate, considering he only seemed to care selectively. Roy wasn't surprised of course, but still felt angry at himself for the sting that resonated in his chest. He had been expecting this. It shouldn't still hurt.

"Stay out of trouble, kiddo! I'll bring you a souvenir." He called as he headed out.

Roy thought briefly of the collection of magnets he'd once proudly lined up and added to as Oliver brought them home, that were now in a box under his bed. He sighed and shouldered his bag, and headed to school.

He spent his free period that morning digitizing and printing a vast amount of posters, choosing the computer right next to the library printer so he could put them straight in his bag and out of sight. This was obviously a misuse of school resources if nothing else. He spent the remaining 10 minutes of his free stuffing the flyers in lockers at random, pinning them to any available notice board and flinging them haphazardly down stairwells.

The bell sounded and the student body spilled into the halls. A minute or two later, Roy felt a tap on his shoulder and he spun to find Jason. The younger boy stood clutching one of the many flyers, his forehead held that little furrow again, and he looked at Roy as though hurt. Roy decided that he never wanted to see that expression on Jason again. Before Roy could express his concern, the younger boy spoke.

"Why...why didn't you tell me?" He inquired, his voice soft and almost wounded.

Roy was overcome with confusion. He didn't think that Jason would care about some gig at a skeezy dive bar. He hadn't mentioned it because he didn't want to deal with Jason telling him no, he couldn't make it. Roy reached a hand out toward the flyer that Jason still had in his grip.

"Jay..." He breathed, trying to think of what to say, to try and decipher Jason's tone.

"Mr Harper!" Mr Wilson's voice cracked like a whip through the hallway.

"Oh, fuck," Roy groaned as the teacher snagged him by the back of his collar.

__

* * *

 

Jason worried that he'd somehow done something to upset his friend. He'd felt as if Roy had been pulling away slightly, they still spent a lot of time together, that hadn't changed, but Roy was distant, less animated in their conversations, more distracted than Jason had ever seen him.

The younger boy didn't really know what to do about it. Looking back, he couldn't pinpoint a singular event that would cause such a rift. The changes were so subtle, that if Jason hadn't been able to read people as well as he could, he wouldn't have noticed at all. Growing up on the streets had required Jason to have an intimate knowledge of how to interpret body language and expressions, to determine what wasn't being said, and how that fared against what was. He was saddened that Roy was slowly breaking away, at least that was how it seemed. But the changes were so outwardly minute that he reasoned that perhaps Roy wasn't even aware that he was doing it.

Jason wanted badly to ask Roy about it, he was concerned for his friend. He hated the thought that the friendship they'd established could be at risk. He didn't know how to bring it up. He wondered if maybe he was simply getting too attached to the older boy, he liked Roy immensely, wanted to monopolize his time. He wasn't sure he wanted Roy to know the extent of his growing feelings, in case they weren't reciprocated.

It was disheartening to step out of class and nearly slip on a colourful flyer, only to discover that Roy hadn't found it necessary to even tell him a Battle of the Bands was happening. The sudden hot sting of hurt blossomed through his chest, overtaking his surge of pride at his friend's upcoming participation. He would love to see Roy perform. Did Roy not want him there?

Catching sight of the other boy at the end of the hall, his auburn, shaggy hair recognizable even from a distance, Jason headed over. With the poster still clenched tight in his grip, he tapped Roy's shoulder to get his attention. But before he could demand any answers, he spotted Mr Wilson headed in their direction, his gaze burning a hole in Roy's back. His voice came quickly after, full of authority and an undertone of fury.

Roy's eyes widened as he let out a curse. His gaze locked with Jason's as he felt Mr Wilson's grip tighten on his shirt. The teacher reached over Roy's shoulder to snatch the poster from Jason's grasp. He scrunched it in a clenched fist before Roy's face.

"Your guardian does not pay our tuition for you to mistreat our facilities, for your own gain," He thundered, steering Roy around to face him, "Detention. Now."

Roy briefly met Jason's eyes as he was herded away. With a glance back over his shoulder, he really wished he could've wiped that pained look from the younger boy's face. He sighed. He should've known he'd get caught.

Roy sat in detention, spinning his drum sticks and counting the seconds. His stomach was growling, but he knew the school had to let them out 10 minutes before the end of their lunch break, just enough time to get some food. When he was finally released, he was greeted to the sight of Jason sat on the floor on the opposite side of the hallway, a half-eaten sandwich was held in one hand as he furiously scribbled notes with the other. He looked up as Roy approached, a tentative smile playing on his lips.

"Hey," the younger boy breathed, before tossing Roy a fresh pack of sandwiches, "Figured you'd be hungry," he shrugged.

Roy glanced down at the offered food. Surprised by the other's thoughtful gesture, he said "You bought me food?...and waited outside detention for me?"

"Roy, honestly," he huffed, "You're my friend," he waved a hand almost dismissively, "besides, I wanted to talk to you."

Roy scratched the back of his head a little nervously, he sat cross-legged next to Jason on the linoleum. He began tearing open his lunch for an excuse not to meet Jason's gaze.

Jason sighed a little, the cavern of his chest aching still with the knowledge that he'd been kept in the dark. He softly bumped their shoulders together before dropping one of the posters in Roy's lap. He ducked his head to meet the older boy's eye.

"Why didn't you tell me?...Didn't you want me there?" Jason asked carefully, trying to downplay his own feelings in the hope of receiving an honest response.

"What?" Roy replied immediately, a little taken aback that Jason had even considered that possibility, "You'd...You'd actually come?"

Jason scoffed but gave the older boy a more pronounced grin, "Of course, I would. You're my friend. Friends support each other," it was so simple in his mind, he would always be there to encourage Roy's pursuits, "Unless, you wanted to keep your band friends and your school friend separate. I'd... I'd understand if that's what you want. But, if you want me there, I will be."

Roy looked at Jason for a few long moments in silent bewilderment, and he wondered - not for the first time - what he'd ever done to deserve this boy. Having Jason there to see him perform sent a thrill through Roy. A fire of determination lit him up inside, and he knew that he was going to play his heart out.

He smirked a little, but his eyes shone soft and grateful. He knocked his shoulder into Jason's, turned his head to bump his nose against the younger boy's temple, "You gonna be my roadie?" He quipped.

Jason spluttered and shoved at him with a laugh, "As if!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ! ❤


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains details on cocaine abuse and a depiction of characters who are heavily under its influence.  
> I've rated this as teen and up, because I didn't want people to assume smut just because of a mature rating, otherwise I would have rated it as such. I don't know how many warnings I need to give, so have another one.

The night of Battle of the Bands approached rapidly. And Roy experienced great remorse for having not invited Jason to watch him play, and was appreciative of his friends support. However, though Roy was excited that the younger boy would be attending the show. It felt good to know that someone in the crowd was there just for him, because they cared about him. He didn't think Jason knew how much that meant.

Jason was nervous about the night. He'd lied to Bruce about where he was going, claiming he and Roy were going to study and then watch movies. He'd never lied to his guardian before, and the thought of it left a sick feeling in the back of his throat, an unpleasant slosh in the pit of his stomach. But just the possibility of Bruce forbidding him from going was enough to cause the lie to spew forth. He couldn't miss this. He _needed_ to be there for Roy. He was a little anxious about meeting Roy's bandmates, his friend didn't talk about them much. It was a little odd, considering how much time he seemed to spend with them. The thought caused Jason to wonder if Roy had ever mentioned _him_ to _them_. He didn't know whether he'd prefer for him to or not. The idea of the boys having no prior conceptions of him was appealing, but the thought that Roy hadn't felt him important enough to mention was more than a little upsetting.

Alfred dropped him off at the Queen mansion, Jason was going to be travelling to the bar with the band, to help with his lie. The second Roy opened the door, his eyes swept over Jason, a smirk playing on his face. The younger boy glanced down at his attire, his outfit comprised of a pair of all black converse, his comfiest jeans, and a casual - though good quality - shirt. Jason knew better than to draw attention to himself or flaunt his wealth in a dive bar on the side of town they were headed to. That was asking for trouble. The dilemma was that since moving in with Bruce all of his belongings were high in quality, and noticeably nice - though not flamboyant by any means, he would still be noticeably tidier than anyone they were likely to meet at the gig.

"Put this on," Roy said suddenly, flinging a black garment absently over his shoulder as he rounded the corner into the living room.

Jason scrabbled with the shirt, shaking it out and holding it up in front of him, smiling to himself when he saw the familiar frog illustration embossed on the front. Rapidly, while Roy was still in the other room, he stripped out of his shirt, tugged the band t-shirt over his head, before throwing his own shirt back on, leaving it unbuttoned to proudly display the Great Frog design. Irrationally, he felt proud and elated that Roy wanted him to wear it, as if it wasn't about support of the band, but more about a blatant and public declaration of his affiliation with the drummer. It was a ridiculous notion, but it filled Jason with a dopey sort of happiness to think about.

"Hey," Roy called out as he stuck his head around the door frame, his mouth widening to a toothy smile when he saw Jason donning the shirt, he stepped forward and grasped the hem softly, tugging Jay a little closer as he grinned down at him, "It looks good on you," he breathed.

Jason could feel his face heating, and his nerves returned tenfold, a fluttering sensation attacked his insides and he fumbled over what to say. But Roy took a step back, breaking the moment before it could really start. The older boy scratched anxiously at the back of his head, a tell-tale tick of his that Jason was fondly familiar with.

"Listen.. If the guys are dicks, just...just don't take anything personally, 'kay?" Roy imparted hesitantly. Jason frowned, really not liking where this was going. "It's just...I've never introduced anyone to them before...and I joined the band late...they all knew each other long before I came along...they're not..they're not always the nicest guys, in a general sense. They're cool to me obviously, we get along great. But they're not exactly polite, or overly friendly at first...I just don't want you to be upset," he elaborated, dropping his gaze to the floor.

Jason was stuck on the _'I've never introduced anyone to them before'_ , that had to mean something. Didn't it? Without further thought, Jason reached a hand forward to tilt Roy's head up, his fingers curving around the other boy's chin. "Don't worry 'bout me. Tonight's about you, right?" He said softly.

Roy smiled at his friend, unconsciously leaning in to the comforting touch. Jason smirked a little, "Besides, I can hold my own, and I don't really care if they like me or not," which wasn't strictly true, it would be nice if he could be civil with Roy's bandmates, if only to make things easier on the older boy.

Roy stepped away, and shrugged into his jacket. " _I_ like you," he murmured, before fishing in his pocket for his cigarette box.

"That's all I need," Jason quipped back, disguising the truth in those words with his teasing tone.

Roy chuckled slightly, before placing an unlit cigarette between his lips and quickly checking his phone. He read the screen intently for a moment before heading for the door.

"We gotta head out. I always meet the guys a few blocks away," Roy informed him, as he opened the door and stepped outside. "I don't want them to know where I live, I don't want them to look at me different, y'know? And if they knew I had this huge empty house all the time, I'd never be rid of them."

Jason contemplated that, and he understood the logic of it, thought it was rather sensible. It also made him happy to know that he seemed to know Roy better than the people he spent the most time with. They only saw a version of Roy that he'd spun for them, a persona he'd concocted to live in their world. That was a practice that Jason knew intimately. Wordlessly, he followed the older boy outside.

The walk took them nearly fifteen minutes, and they spent the journey smoking and exchanging idle chit-chat. It wasn't long before the guys pulled up, Chuck was behind the wheel of the old van, smirking at them through the window. Without greeting the singer, Roy reached for the sliding door. He inclined his head towards Jason, signaling for him to get in first.

The drive to the bar was filled with boisterous laughter, the guys ribbing Roy for bringing his 'tutor' to a gig. Roy slung his arm across Jason's shoulders and laughed good-naturedly, before telling his bandmates to 'leave off, he's cool'. Jason kinda wanted Roy to never move his arm.

The bar was slowly filling up as Chuck parked around the back, the boys hauled their gear backstage while Jason stood unobtrusively to the side. Jason was surprised to discover that he didn't need to pay the door fee, because Roy had taken the time to inform the doormen 'he's with me'.

Roy had bought himself a beer and Jason a lemonade as the first band got ready for their set. Looking around, Jason was surprised that despite the dingy decor and the bad part of town, people were more or less just keeping to themselves. Roy leaned in so that Jason could hear him over the noise of the gathered crowd, "You gonna be okay while I play?" He asked. Jason found it a little sweet that Roy had been looking out for him, even though it really wasn't necessary. He nodded with a grin.

"You nervous?" He couldn't help but ask.

"A little," Roy allowed, he glanced around the bar, surveying who he'd be playing to.

"Yo, Harper!" Chuck called before Jason could offer any words of encouragement. Most of the crowd turned to seek out the cause of the uproar. Both Jason and Roy looked up to see the singer waving frantically to get Roy's attention.

Roy glanced down at Jason abruptly, his hand coming up to grip Jason's bicep lightly, the heat of his hand seeped through the younger boy's shirt. "I'll go see what his problem is. Stay here?" Jason nodded.

Roy followed Chuck into a bathroom stall, flicking the latch behind him. Chuck had already pulled out his pocket mirror, he balanced it on his thigh as he sat on the toilet lid. He emptied the baggie of powder onto the reflective surface. Wordlessly, Roy handed him his student library card, Chuck smiled in thanks and used the card to form lines.

"Like fuck am I snorting anything off of a toilet, that's dirty as shit," the boy commented offhandedly. That's one thing that Roy could say about Chuck, his drugs were good quality, and he took them as safely as possible. "What's up with short-stack? He not feelin' up to joining us?" The frontman quipped, in clear reference to Jason.

Roy felt the sudden urge to punch Chuck in the face, and despite their many faults, he'd never felt the need to get violent with any of his bandmates. Roy glowered dangerously, and Chuck raised an eyebrow. "You leave him the fuck out of this, Chucky. You don't even tell him about this stuff, alright?" Roy seethed, " ...and don't call him that."

The other boy just chuckled, "Alright, man, chill. Didn't know you were all mushy over the kid."

Before Roy could think up a retort, Chuck pulled a tobacco paper out of his pocket and rolled it up. "The only assholes who snort through dollar bills are in the movies, or are too desperate for a fix to care how fucking dirty money is. Who knows who had that note before you did?"

Roy was leaning against the door, his arms folded as he watched Chuck snort his lines. Without missing a beat the singer created two more lines, and Roy knelt down beside him to get his own fix. "Remember, a nostril per line, and don't forget to snort some water on the way out, no one wants this shit drying out their nose." Roy nodded.

When Roy found Jason again, no more than 10 minutes had passed. Roy smiled, his mouth wide with excitement. He blinked rapidly against the brightness of the stage lights and beamed down at Jason. "I'm really glad you're here," he admitted.

Jason smiled back at his friend, "Wouldn't miss it," he breathed. He catalogued Roy's restless excitement, "What was that about anyway? Band pep talk?"

Roy gave a little shrug, his grin still in place. "You could say that."

Jason had the nagging sense that there was something he was missing. Roy seemed to be boundless in energy, like whatever Chucky had said to the boys had made them ready, hungry for the competition. But, at the same time, Jason had to concede that this was Great Frog's first competitive gig, and drumming was Roy's life, his enthusiasm was understandable. Adrenaline was a funny thing, he supposed. He watched as Roy's eyes darted around the room, he shifted in place slightly, his hand absently brushed at his opposite forearm as if ridding it of something. Jason frowned.

The first band of the night took the stage, and Roy drained his second beer, it might even have been his third. "I gotta head backstage, we're up after this set is finished," he explained.

"Knock 'em dead," Jason encouraged with a grin.

"Cheer for me," Roy told him before pressing a somewhat sloppy and completely unexpected kiss to the younger boy's temple.

Roy was gone before Jason could form any kind of response, but the dopey little smile on his face said more than he ever could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've done a lot of reading up on different substances and their individual effects, both psychological and physical. However, accounts varied considerably depending on the person. Please bare with me, and do not take anything I say as 100% fact, I'm only human. It's as accurate as I can make it. 
> 
> With that in mind, the fic should get progressively more heavy from here on. There will be a lot of topics brought up that some people may find stressful. I'm giving another warning here, if you're on the fence about reading onwards and would like to know a little more about how in depth things go, you can ask about a specific trigger and i'll let you know spoiler free if it's something that is actively explored or simply mentioned, so you can make a more informed decision. i can be reached on tumblr @ oathkeptroxas
> 
> Please let me know what you think! And let me know what you'd like to see happen in future chapters!! ❤


	11. Chapter 11

There were 8 bands in total that would be taking the stage, each performing a set of about 15-20 minutes. Great Frog coming up second was unfortunate in a sense, they'd have to deliver a knock-out performance in order to be remembered, and as the bar patrons got progressively more intoxicated throughout the night, inevitably their judgement would become more and more skewed. However, when the time came for the boys to take the stage, Roy reached the peak of his high, and he was riding the buzz. Every collision of his sticks to the skins felt like the world's greatest achievement. Who even gave a fuck about those other bands anyway? 

Jason watched from the side of the stage as Roy lost himself in the music, the percussion crashing and sounding in faultless rhythm. Chucky's voice was husky with a distinctive, unusual edge, an inflection coated the lyrics that was never present when he was simply speaking. The boys were animated, like they owned the stage; they flowed from one song to another, calling out to excite and engage the crowd. Jason gazed, transfixed at the way the sweat on Roy's skin seemed to shine with the flashing colours of the various stage lights. His eyes were shut, his auburn lashes fanned out against freckled cheeks, there was a furrow of concentration between his brows, his teeth were clamped down on his lower lip, and Jason marveled at how someone could look so at peace and at war all at once. Roy was made for this.

Jason caught sight of a group of girls a few feet from him, they murmured and giggled amongst themselves, and shot appreciative looks at the musicians. Jason felt his fists clench as one of them stared unabashedly at Roy, and spent the rest of the song in stunned silence at his overreaction. Roy was his friend, he was talented and attractive and in his element, it made sense that other people would see that, too. The set ended with the resounding note of that song. Roy took a long pull of his beer bottle, his neck was stretched out long, the sweat-slick skin of it exposed, his hair was damp around his nape, the girls giggled again. As the applause rang out, Chucky gave a few over-dramatic bows in quick succession, he laughed boisterously before saluting the crowd. The girls huddled around the steps as the boys descended from the stage, one of them quickly latched onto Chucky's elbow. And Jason inhaled sharply, and watched in abstract horror as Roy winked at one of them, backing her against the sound box to press a filthy kiss to her mouth.

The boys hauled the gear back out to the van, the girls trailing behind them. The peppy blonde that Roy had kissed tapped his shoulder, she herded him around the corner, and without a word exchanged between them, the harsh, damp gravel of the alley was biting into the skin of her knees. Roy's head fell back against the brick, and he panted a profanity into the night air.

When Roy returned not long after, the boys were having a smoke, sat on the floor of the van with the sliding door open. They smirked as he approached. " _Fuck_ , why did I let that happen?"

Chucky laughed, "It's the blow, man...no pun intended," he waggled his eyebrows and Roy rolled his eyes, "shit makes you cocky...and kinda horny."

" _Great._ " Roy breathed.

"Speaking of, you're gonna be coming down any second. You want another line?" 

Roy shook his head, already feeling guilty for leaving Jason alone most of the night. "I gotta find Jay."

"That reminds me," Chucky started suddenly, he turned to the other guys, "Don't mention the drug stuff to Roy's boytoy. He nearly bit my head off earlier for even suggesting it. And we do not want a falling out with our drummer. Not after we just tore the roof off this place."

The boys smirked at each other, but nodded in agreement. Joey and Chuck fist bumped. The bassist turned to Roy after a moment, "No offense, but why do you think you owe him anything, anyway? It's not like you're dating the guy."

Roy contemplated that for a second. He knew it was true, but still, he wanted to be someone that Jason could be proud of. "Look, I like him, alright? And if he could _not_ find out that I'm a gigantic fuck-up, that would be great."

Joey just scoffed, and took a long drag of his cigarette. "We're all fucked up Roy-boy. Some people are just better at hiding it."

Roy found Jason sat at a booth at the back, swirling the dregs of his lemonade in the bottom of his glass. "Hey," he ventured, before he took a seat beside the younger boy.

Jason gave him a smile that seemed a little strained. His chest still felt pinched tight from having witnessed Roy kiss someone else, perhaps it was naive of him to think that the kiss to his temple meant anything. Roy had drained quite a few beers, for all Jason knew, the older boy could just be an affectionate drunk. He disguised his hurt as best as he could. "You guys were incredible," he told the older boy softly.

"Thanks," Roy breathed, he relaxed back into his seat a little. Roy was filled with the nearly overwhelming sensation that he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, like every positive thing had been ripped away all at once. He'd known in theory that a cocaine comedown was anything but a fun time, but the force and suddenness of it was staggering, and having to hide it from Jason made him feel even lower than the drug crash already had. Dirt had nothing on Roy Harper.

Jason watched Roy carefully, his shoulders slumped, his entire demeanour screaming 'crestfallen', he worried that something might have happened. This wasn't the place for personal conversations, and he made the assumption that it wasn't something Roy wanted to talk about. "So, uh...that's your type, huh?" He attempted to change the subject, he inclined his head towards the blonde girl from earlier, who was now making doe-eyes at the current band's vocalist. Perhaps that was what had Roy so down all of a sudden, the possibility of that made Jason _ache_.

Roy looked up in surprise for a second, his eyes barely flitted to the girl in question before he was meeting Jason's gaze. "What? No. I uh, that was just heat of the moment, I guess...I don't really think I have a _type_. What about you?"

Jason stared at Roy for a long moment, before he drained the remainder of his lemonade. "Never really thought about it."

Roy's bandmates rejoined them in the next second. And immediately Roy knew they'd been snorting. Luckily, Jason didn't know any of them well enough to notice the differences in their behaviour and general demeanour. As the rest of the bands played their sets, the crowd was getting restless, more alcohol flowing as the night went on. Chucky was making loud and obnoxious digs at other band's performances, and though Roy knew his arrogance was a tell-tale symptom of his high, it was still bad showmanship. He could tell that Jason really wasn't impressed with Great Frog's lead vocalist. Roy had switched to soft drinks, and hadn't bought himself a single beer since their set finished, but his bandmates hadn't felt the need. Roy had heard that the influence of another substance could help lessen the blow of a comedown, but his friends were taking that to another level, they were shit-faced drunk by the time the results were even announced.

When Great Frog ranked in third place Chucky jumped to his feet, the jarring movement sent multiple beer bottles toppling, fortunately most of them were already empty. Roy could see the rant coming, Chucky's refusal to accept the result for what it was, was building up. Roy had to cut it off. He yanked at Chucky's arm, levelled him with a stern gaze before their group headed out the back entrance. They didn't even stay to hear which of the remaining two bands had snagged the win.

As the boys headed towards the van, Chucky pulled out his keys. "Like fuck!" Jason swore suddenly, the band all turned to him, equally surprised and confused by his outburst.

"I am _not_ getting in that van with any of you behind the wheel," before anyone could respond, Jason's fingers curled around Roy's wrist, "And neither are you," he told the older boy sternly, his eyes blazed and his hold tightened.

Everything was silent for a tense moment, all of them frozen and contemplating. It was Joey who spoke up, "Alright fine, we'll all just crash out in the back," he waved a hand in a dismissive gesture before he reached for the sliding door.

Jason stared at Roy, awaiting his reaction. The older boy's expression softened when he met Jason's gaze. He knew that Jason needed to get home. With a sigh, Roy turned to Chucky, and held out a hand. "Gimme your keys. It's not that I don't trust you, but I don't."

Chucky huffed but handed the keys over without complaint, Roy walked over to stand at Jason's side. "We'll walk back, we're not wasted, so it's not a problem. I'll text you guys tomorrow." He told his bandmates sternly, they all grunted and waved their goodbyes.

Roy and Jason headed over the road, opposite the bars entrance, they took a shortcut through a small wooded area that led onto private property, large fields stretched before them. It was far too late for anyone to notice them trespassing, and the walk through the grass was peaceful. They could use some peace after the night that they'd been through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know your thoughts? I'm extremely nervous about the progression of this fic so far, especially now that things have started happening. ❤


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a shit ton of research for Roy's history, but with comic books there are always some inconsistencies. Roy's father died in a forest fire, while saving a Navajo medicine chief, who then raised Roy. Roy took up archery, idolized Green Arrow, Oliver visited the rez to judge an archery competition, took in Roy when Brave Bow died. Right?
> 
> But, in the Arsenal mini-series when he visits his childhood home it's stated as being in Arizona. So I did research. There is a large Navajo community in Window Rock, Arizona, and seems the most likely geographic location for Roy to have been born. I looked up disaster statistics for that area. Floods, droughts, earthquakes and tornadoes were all more likely than forest fires. Also, in Outsiders, Roy confirms that he's a member of the Tachii'ni clan, and despite looking, I couldn't seem to find where that clan originates from. However, I didn't want to veer off from the comics too much, not even for realism. So, please don't think I didn't try, trust me, I did.

They walked in somewhat tense silence for a few long moments. The evening had taken it's toll on them both in different ways, so much seemed to have happened in such a short space of time. Roy had felt like he was being torn in two, with his loyalties tested and his heart filled with guilt for putting Jason through such a debacle. Jason felt a little like he'd been intruding. Though he would never regret showing his support to his friend, he still picked up on the fact that Roy and the guys from the band clearly had a dynamic between them that his presence had disrupted.

Suddenly Roy sighed deeply and flopped backwards to lie upon the banking of the field. The grass was dew covered in the late night, that was actually early morning. He gazed upwards and a wistful smile flitted across his face. "Like a hole straight up to the sky," he murmured.

Jason frowned a little in confusion as he sat beside Roy. He tilted his head back to view the starry sky, twinkling constellations blinked down upon them, the tops of trees and the silhouettes of towering buildings formed a misshapen frame in his peripheral, like they were laying in a crater. It was indeed like a hole straight up to the sky. Jason laid back beside Roy to appreciate it better.

"Did I ever tell you how I ended up with Oliver?" Roy asked randomly, his arms were folded behind his head and his voice was almost melancholic.

Jason had wondered about Roy's upbringing, of course he had. He'd always been a curious child, it had often gotten him into trouble. But with a childhood like Jason's, trouble was par for the course. He'd never asked about Roy's upbringing, he didn't want to offer Roy the opportunity to ask questions of his own. After all, turn about's only fair. He presumed that Roy's childhood involved Native American culture, Roy had mentioned a reservation in multiple off-hand comments throughout their friendship. Jason debated on how to respond when Roy spoke again.

"There was a fire, I don't remember, I was too little. But, my dad was a ranger. He died saving people's lives. Brave Bow was the last my father saved, and he took me in. I grew up as a member of the Tachii'ni clan, was raised Navajo." Roy's smile was a little sad as he explained, and Jason listened patiently, he kept his gaze on the stars, as if afraid that Roy would feel pressured if he was looking at him.

Jason thought over what Roy had told him, he couldn't imagine what it must have been like to be adopted into a whole new culture, to know that it's a part of who you are, even though you don't look anything like the kids you grew up with. Jason was glad that Roy had been given the childhood he very easily could've been robbed of.

"Oliver Queen had a cabin in that wood, a romantic getaway location. My dad's warning saved his life. And when Mr Queen came around to rebuild his property, he donated a lot of money to help rebuild the things the Navajo had lost too. That's how we met. But I stayed with Brave Bow, of course. Brave Bow loved me," Roy trailed off again, a sigh escaped his lips. Jason wondered what it must have been like to have met your legal guardian long before they ever took you in. He could admit now that Bruce Wayne was nothing like the tabloids made him out to be.

"Navajo believe in spiritual balances, there are a lot of bad omens, taboos. Exposure to them means bad luck, misfortune, illness. You have to restore the balance. Think of it as karma, I suppose," Roy explained, as he started to pick at the surrounding grass absently. "When Brave Bow got sick, they- it's a taboo, y'know? Only family and loved ones can help heal someone. An outsider would disrupt the whole process, and I-- they loved me, okay? But his life- He- He was too important, they couldn't risk it.-" Roy's voice cracked and he turned on his side, his back was to Jason now, but the younger boy could still see how his shoulders shuddered despite the dark. "I didn't get to say goodbye."

Jason sat dumbstruck. He knew what it was like to lose a parent. He knew better than most people, because he'd seen death first-hand. But, he hadn't known at the time what was happening, not exactly. But, Roy must have known his father's days were numbered, and he'd been kept from him until it was too late. Jason couldn't imagine how Roy had felt in those days, walking around with the constant weight of knowing he'd likely never see Brave Bow again. He'd been just a child, and the person who he'd turned to for comfort his whole life was the one person he was being separated from.

"Oh, Roy," Jason breathed, he placed a tentative hand on the older boy's quaking shoulder. 

He didn't understand why Roy was telling him all of this now, perhaps it was still the alcohol in his system giving him a little liquid courage, maybe he was just so tired of keeping it all in that it spewed out. Regardless of the reasoning, Jason was proud that Roy trusted him enough to tell him. Jason wished he had the bravery to tell Roy about himself, but he didn't have much faith in people these days, and regardless of how much he valued the older boy, he'd learnt the hard way that hits come from where you least expect them, and humanity as a whole can be inherently cruel.

Roy chuckled a little self-deprecatingly, the sound was a hollow, wet rattle that made Jason's heart ache for his friend. The younger boy scooted closer, he wanted more than anything to offer comfort, but was at a loss for how to do that. Roy didn't react to Jason's close proximity, so Jason carefully placed a hand on Roy's side, he wound his fingers into the fabric of Roy's shirt, and his nose skimmed the curve of Roy's back.

"I don't remember my real dad," Roy startled them both by speaking again, "But sometimes I think I remember the fire. Maybe it's a memory, maybe it's been fabricated by all of the things that people have told me. But, I think I remember the way the wood cracked, popped. The smoke was black, thick, everywhere. The heat came off the earth for days afterwards. Sometimes I have nightmares where everything is black and crackling and I wake up and I can't breathe. And I'd go out into the valley, and I'd lie spread-out on a boulder and watch the stars, feel the heat of the day slowly leave the rock, seep into my skin. It was different to the fire, calmer, more warmth that anything else, felt safe," Roy sounded close to sleep, like his re-telling had taken a lot out of him, and Jason figured that perhaps it had, "Kinda like right now."

Jason smiled softly, wanted to stay there forever. But he knew they had to get back, the chill of the night was biting at them, and the sky was beginning to lighten on the horizon. 

"Jay?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know your thoughts! I'd love to know what you want to see happen next!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may be instances where I gloss over events that take place, so that they're referenced but don't happen 'on screen', there will be two reasons for this: Primarily, I think that the characters feelings and thought processes in regards to it are more important and would rather showcase that character development than the actual event itself, or I want to get to more important and plot pivotal revelations and find that the event in question doesn't carry enough weight for me to merit it with a fully fledged chapter. I'm trying to keep my chapters relatively short, or around the same length at least so that they have a very definite beginning and end point. This is to help me keep up with this fic, because I haven't completed a multi-chap since the Twilight fandom on ff.net about 6 years ago?

Having gotten back to the manor at just past 3 in the morning, Jason didn't surface again until the Sunday afternoon. Alfred served up an omelette while Jason sat, sleep-rumbled, at the counter. He'd just begun to dig in when Alfred suddenly excused himself, Jason watched him leave and caught sight of Bruce leaning in the doorway, his expression was unreadable.

Without a word, Bruce stepped forward, he retrieved a folded piece of paper from his pocket as he walked, he laid it flat on the breakfast bar beside Jason's plate. It was one of the flyers Roy had gotten into trouble for at school. The frog illustration stared up at him mockingly and Jason gave an audible gulp.

"You lied to me," Bruce's voice was stern, gave no room for an argument - not that Jason had one. He looked up into the disappointed eyes of his guardian and his shoulders slumped.

"I met a colleague for brunch this morning and they showed me this. Their daughter brought it home from school. Apparently Oliver Queen's ward was causing trouble again, he's bad news." Bruce continued almost conversationally.

Jason bristled, "They don't know him," he stated hotly, the words dripping from his tongue and laced with venom. 

Bruce simply raised an eyebrow at his young ward, surprised by the immediate, protective edge to his response. "Jason, I forgave that you called Alfred to pick you up at 3 o'clock this morning after you had us worried sick. I forgave you for not dropping us a message to let us know you were safe. I forgave you for having your phone off all night," he listed, his voice was filled with disappointment and it ate away at Jason, he had never meant to let Bruce down. "I believed you when you told me you'd fallen asleep watching movies, I thought _'these things happen'_ , I was even glad that you'd found someone your own age to spend time with, I thought it would be good for you. You've never given me any reason to doubt you. But Jason, I cannot forgive you lying to me. I can't condone you putting yourself at risk for somebody who may only cause you trouble." 

Bruce sighed softly and placed a gentle hand on Jason's shoulder. Jason blinked owlishly down at the poster, and he considered whether everything had been worth Bruce's disappointment, and there was a part of him that wanted to say 'no, nothing was worth letting Bruce down', but another part of him recognized that Roy was becoming increasingly more important, and those moments that they'd lain in that field as Roy had cracked right before his eyes, that had been worth it. Roy had needed him and he had been there. That was worth everything.

"I'm sorry I lied. I didn't want to. I was just so worried that you'd say no. And I really wanted to be there for him. He's my friend."

Bruce scrubbed a hand down his face as though tired, "I understand that Jason, but something very easily could've happened to you."

Jason frowned, his eyes became misty in the face of Bruce's unwavering gaze and unfaltering concern, it was something that Jason still sometimes didn't know how to handle. "I know. Bruce, I'm not just some kid. I had to grow up pretty fast, and I know you don't like to think about it, neither do I. But I know those streets better than most people, I _can_ take care of myself," Jason tried again to explain, " _I just needed to be there._ "

A hint of sadness reached the billionaire's eyes and a gruff sigh escaped him. "Jason, that's no excuse and this isn't a debate. You're grounded."

Jason's mouth fell open. Bruce stared at him for a long moment before leaving the room and Jason didn't know how to react. He'd never been grounded before.

Roy woke up to the sound of someone rummaging through the kitchen, considering that Oliver hadn't even been gone for a full 7 days, it was incredibly unlikely to be him. Because Roy was still half-asleep it didn't occur to him to consider the only other person who had a key. Assuming he'd have to fight off some pretty ambitious burglars, he grabbed a baseball bat and slunk silently down the stairs. It wasn't until he got to the foyer that he picked up on the tell-tale humming that could only be Dinah.

As Oliver's sometimes-girlfriend, whenever he was in town, Roy would've thought that she'd have something better to do with her Sunday than invade his house. As he rounded the corner into the kitchen, she was happily raiding the fridge.

"Morning," Roy called abruptly, causing her to jump slightly, and very nearly smash her head on the top shelf.

She flicked her gaze over to the clock, "Afternoon, more like," but she was grinning at him somewhat fondly. Roy rolled his eyes but returned the smile.

Roy liked Dinah, she was kindhearted and honest, way too good for someone like Oliver Queen who was never around to appreciate her. She always tried with Roy, though the age difference between her and Ollie made her in no way old enough to be Roy's mother, she always made sure to include Roy wherever possible.

"What're you even doing here?" He couldn't help but ask.

"Well, young man, I'll have you know that I have a birthday party to attend tonight, and the dress I wanted to wear was in Ollie's wardrobe. So, I thought I'd stop by and get it. And because _someone_ was being a lazy shit, I figured I'd cook up some dinner for us while I was here."

Roy chuckled lightly, a part of him was glad that she wasn't just checking in on him, it made him feel like a child, the other part of him was disappointed that she wasn't, at least that would've meant that she - or Ollie, if he'd sent her - cared.

"Why do you put up with him?" Roy asked suddenly, he couldn't hold it back anymore, he didn't understand it. Dinah clearly had an active social life, why would she wait around for someone like Oliver?

Dinah sighed softly and took a seat across from Roy at the dining table. She reached over to place a delicate hand atop of his. "Roy, you don't understand-"

Roy scoffed and promptly withdrew his hand from her grasp. He didn't need Dinah treating him like some kid. He could see that Oliver had no time for either of them, he just couldn't comprehend why. Dinah's pitying tone just got his back up.

"You don't know Oliver the way that I do. His childhood was- well, his family has always been wealthy. Anything that Ollie wanted? He got it. And when you grow up living this life of instant gratification, well, you grow up feeling a little entitled." She began, and Roy huffed a little, _instant gratification_ was something he'd become closely acquainted with recently.

"When his parents died, it hit him pretty hard. He wanted to make sure he _lived_ his life, y'know? And I'm not making excuses for him, I wouldn't do that. But Ollie can be rather dense. He doesn't always see what's right in front of him, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care. He _tries_ , Roy, he just doesn't always succeed. But he loves you, he's just not very good at showing it, he doesn't know how to be what you need. And I think that scares him a little."

Roy considered that, and he had to concede that most teenagers his age would give anything to have their parents butt out of their business and leave them alone, but those kids were simply taking what they had for granted. He sighed.

"I love Ollie. And I know he loves me, because he always comes back, and he needs me. And the same goes for you. Just, don't give up on him, 'kay?" She implored him, she leaned over the table with wide, sincere eyes.

"I think he's already given up on me," Roy whispered, his chest was stinging and his heart felt heavy.

"Oh, sweetie," Dinah breathed before she rounded the table to envelope him in a hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts. I find that (though I'm a sucker for high school aus), a lot of people who use this au tend to veer off so that the character isn't the character people are familiar with anymore, and though that often works very well in the established story, I'm hoping I can keep these characters true to themselves. Please let me know if I've pulled it off!


	14. Chapter 14

The week that Jason spent grounded was difficult. Roy felt immense guilt about getting Jason into trouble, but the younger boy ensured him that he was responsible for his own choices, and that he didn't regret his decision. Jason had vowed that he'd do it again if he had to, and Roy once again wondered what he'd done right to have Jason be a part of his life.

They saw each other for an hour after school so that they could study. They spent that time at the library so that Alfred could pick Jason up the second the hour was up, at the front gate. Jason was more than okay with those terms, he wanted to get back into his guardian's good graces. He was completely comfortable with dealing with the consequences of his action, at least on the outside. In reality, Jason was baffled by how he could miss Roy so much even though he saw him everyday. In some ways it felt a lot like they'd regressed back to being simply tutor and student, school work was the only thing that brought them together.

The following week, when Jason's strict curfew was lifted, they decided to celebrate by having a movie marathon at Queen mansion, just the two of them. It was late afternoon, and they were sat out on the garden wall, Jason gazed up at the older boy. The setting sun set the sky ablaze, Roy's silhouette was stark and crisp against the backdrop, his unruly hair was blowing in the slight breeze, and his lips were tilted in a lazy smile as he breathed out a wisp of cigarette smoke. For a second, Jason had the fleeting thought of how he'd love to snapshot the moment. He ducked his head and took a drag quickly, so that Roy wouldn't notice his stare.

"What do you mean you've never seen a horror movie?!" Roy let out, drawing Jason's attention back to the conversation at hand. The older boy actually looked affronted.

There had never been any opportunities to watch many movies at all when Jason was growing up. He didn't want to talk about the implications of that though, so he simply shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal. He figured that horror movies wouldn't phase him, he'd seen enough bad shit happening to last a lifetime, he'd witnessed things first hand that still gave him nightmares, there's no way some guy in a costume was going to get to him at all. But Roy looked eager to show him, so he'd happily oblige him.

What Jason hadn't counted on, was how devastatingly wrong he was. And though he was sure that he wasn't so much _frightened_ as he was _ill-prepared_. He hadn't expected anything like what he was witnessing. Ignorance is bliss after all. They were barely an hour into Dead Silence and Jason was embarrassingly jumpy. They were sat side-by-side on the large sofa, a blanket was haphazardly thrown across their laps, Jason's fingers were clenching and unclenching around its fleecy fabric as he watched the next scene play out.

Roy chuckled when Jason let out an unconscious little squeak, and his body flinched. The younger boy promptly scowled and elbowed Roy sharply in the ribs. "You're making me watch this shit. I'm doing this for you, you don't get to make fun of me," Jason griped.

"Don't worry, it's cute," Roy sent back with another low chuckle.

"Don't call me cute," Jason tossed back dismissively, before he shot his gaze back to the screen and tried to ignore the mess of feelings that Roy's words had stirred.

Jason felt Roy shift slightly beside him, he tugged the blanket around himself more firmly and Jason felt the older boy's hand come up to play with the hair at his nape. When Jason leaned back into the affection, he turned to see Roy's arched brow. Jason stared at Roy for a long moment, the expanse of the older boy's side looked warm and inviting, and with a tiny shrug he adjusted his position. He sat against Roy's side, his shoulder was tucked under the older boy's arm, and Roy's hand came to rest on his chest. It felt nice. 

Throughout the rest of the evening they stayed that way, at some point Roy's opposite hand had curled around Jason's hip, and whenever the younger boy jumped as they continued to watch movies, Roy would give him a reassuring squeeze. They both, of course, recognized that his wasn't standard _friend_ behaviour, and they weren't ready to talk about what that meant. It felt important though, like it was supposed to happen somehow.

But the closer Jason got to Roy, the more be began to depend on him. Jason relished the fact that he had someone in his life who he could be himself around, someone that took him as he was and made him feel like his age for a change. But, he also acknowledged that a huge part of that was because Roy didn't know the truth, didn't know where he'd come from or who he'd once been. And the fear that Roy might turn him away once he found out was potent, it made his chest feel hollowed out and aching raw. He pressed closer into the warmth of his friend's body, and his face fell onto Roy's chest. He listened to the steady thump of the older boy's heart, and Roy, who assumed Jason's movement was in response to the movie, just squeezed him tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated. But, don't leave hate. Also, recognize that there's a difference between giving constructive criticism and advice in regards to how someone can improve the technical aspect of their writing, and simply nit-picking/insulting because the story doesn't go the way you would've liked or the style isn't to your taste. Thank you.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It's dangerous to speak and sigh,  
> You might know what I’m trying to hide."
> 
> Resolution | Matt Corby

It was a perfectly mundane Wednesday, the sky was clouded over but mercifully dry. There was nothing extraordinary about the way Roy practically inhaled a few of Alfred's brownies. Jason always brought extra for his friend. Roy didn't have anyone to bake treats for him, and Jason would share anything with Roy. It was a completely standard lunch hour, Jason watched his friend with a fondly sincere gaze, chuckled at the chocolate smudge on his chin. Anyone looking in on them would find nothing unusual.

But Jason's heart was beating fiercely in his chest, and he's on the verge of slight panic. He didn't know when or how this happened. There was no singular event that triggered this revelation, it was a painfully anticlimactic epiphany, and he didn't know how to deal with all that he's feeling, didn't know where to put these thoughts. Roy flicked his tongue out to lick away the crumbs at the edge of his mouth, and Jason loved him. That was it.

Jason wanted Roy to never leave. He realised that his friend was so vastly important, had worked into everything until nothing else mattered as much. And the force of that acknowledgment had thrown the younger boy for a loop, but at the same time, perhaps he should've seen this coming all along. He could see how Roy was hurting, and it made him ache inside that he was helpless to stop it.

Even from the beginning, Jason had thrown all of his rules out of the window to be whatever Roy needed. He'd lied to Bruce, even though he'd known that Roy would've forgiven his absence at the gig. Jason had never, ever thought he'd be in a position where he would disrespect his guardian for the sake of someone else. But Roy hadn't even asked that of him, yet he'd done it without hesitation, like it had been the only logical course of action. Jason was not usually comfortable with casual physical affection, it was a byproduct of his childhood, a fear that arms extended under the guise of comfort could ultimately do him harm. Yet every lingering touch between him and Roy made him want to cling longer, get closer.

Roy had no idea. Roy saw himself as less than he was, as if undeserving of the affection he was starved for. And it made Jason feel sick to think about, didn't Roy know that he deserved everything? Jason knew his friend wouldn't believe him if he were to tell him so. The younger boy had been through enough to know that some wounds never truly heal, and break open again at the slightest touch, weep past their bandages. He was determined to prove to Roy in time, that he was worth more than what he was being given.

Now that Jason had accepted his feelings, he was anxious about how he would handle then in practise. He couldn't tell Roy now, it was too much and there was too much going on with Roy, Jason was sure he still didn't know the extent of it. Not to mention that there were too many secrets between them still for him to feel comfortable making himself so vulnerable by spilling his heart out.

Roy noted that Jason was quieter than usual, his eyes were a little glazed over, there was a distant expression on his face. He waved a hand in front of the younger boy's face in a bid to get him to focus. Jason jerked back to the present, blinking owlishly and promptly dropping his gaze to the table top.

Roy frowned, he nudged Jason's arm with his elbow and quirked a brow, "What's up?"

"Nothing," Jason said immediately, and then chuckled nervously.

Roy just arched his eyebrow further, thoroughly unconvinced. He stared at his friend for a long moment, before ultimately deciding to let it slide. He was confident that Jason would talk to him about it whenever he was ready. With a shrug, Roy turned his attention back to his lunch. He could feel Jason's gaze burning a hole in the side of his face, without looking up he simply grumbled, "Seriously, man, what?"

"Nothing," Jason repeated, picking up his half-eaten sandwich, "It's nothing."

But it wasn't nothing. It was anything but.

* * *

 

Bruce Wayne had noticed a change in his son. Jason seemed a lot more open than he'd ever seen him, animated in ways that were subtle but wholly different to how he'd been previously. Jason had always been enthusiastic about his life at Wayne Manor, grateful and eager in all aspects of his new home, but there was something specific about his recent positivity. Bruce would've had to have been blind to not see the direct correlation between Jason's attitude and a boy named Roy Harper. Bruce had yet to meet the boy in Oliver Queen's care, and Jason had told him that he had yet to meet Oliver. The fact that Jason spent a lot of time at Queen Mansion but had yet to meet the man himself rang alarm bells, but Bruce didn't mention it, he decided that he'd wait it out a little longer to see how things progressed. Jason seemed happy, and the friendship between the two boys seemed to be good for them both. If something isn't broken, don't go trying to fix it.

But, much more recently, Bruce had noticed that Jason was distant, pensive. The teenager was easily distracted and not as talkative to either him or Alfred. There was clearly something bothering him, Bruce could swear he could hear the cogs turning in Jason's mind as he thought. Deciding to check on his young ward, Bruce made his way to Jason's room, and he peered around the door. Jason was led out on his stomach across the rug, his homework was spread before him, but his eyes were unfocused and turned towards the window, his hand absentmindedly tapped his pen against the paper, a repetitive, off-beat sound that he didn't seem to be aware of causing. Bruce frowned slightly, worry creased his brow and he knocked on the door to draw Jason's attention.

Jason was conflicted. Ever since his sudden revelation in the cafeteria the previous week he'd been floundering. He'd tried to back-pedal. There was a part of him that wanted to remain in denial, because it would be easier for the time being to simply pretend that nothing had changed. There was a deep-seated fear within him, and a nagging worry that his feelings wouldn't be returned, that if he were to come clean to Roy - not just about the extent of his affections - but about himself in general, then he would lose Roy entirely. Roy's friendship was too precious, the camaraderie they'd obtained was something that Jason valued very highly, and he'd come to the conclusion that it didn't matter what role Roy filled in his life, as long as Roy continued to be a part of it. He'd wondered if he was simply over-reacting. It was perfectly plausible that he was. After all, he'd never even been close to _in love_ with someone before. It was a serious declaration to make, a wild and important word that he didn't want to simply throw around. There were many, many forms of love. And sure, he could love Roy without being _in love_ with him. He wondered if maybe that was all it was. Maybe all of his over-analyzing had made his appreciation for his friend into something that it wasn't. But, on the flip-side of that, as Jason had no basis for comparison, he also couldn't _rule out_ the very real possibility that he was, in fact, in love with his best friend. It was complicated, there were so many factors to consider.

Another concern that Jason had was that, he was 16, and up until recently he'd had no desire or intention of dating anyone. He'd never met anyone that he felt he could build something with. A lot of that he'd contributed to his past, it was difficult for him to trust people and be open about his feelings, so it would stand to reason that he'd be reluctant and unenthusiastic about romance as a result. But, now these conflicting feelings about Roy were mixing everything up to the point where Jason wasn't sure what he wanted anymore. And, _if_ his feelings for Roy were as real as he thought they might be, what did it mean that the first person that he'd felt like dating was another boy? His first thought was that maybe he was gay, but he quickly dismissed that, because it wasn't _boys_ he was attracted to, but rather _boy_ , singular and specific to Roy in particular. The whole thing was giving him a headache, and the very thought that he might need to eventually explain all of it to Bruce made him want to puke. He was mostly annoyed at himself, he was working himself up over nothing, it wasn't like he and Roy would ever be dating anyway. The only time he'd seen Roy express interest in anyone was at Battle of the Bands, and that had been a girl.

The sharp knock on his door had him whipping his head around so fast his neck hurt with the movement. He catalogued the almost weary expression on his guardian's face as the man stepped into the room. He offered Bruce a small smile and tilted his head in inquiry.

"How's the homework going? Do you need any help?" Bruce asked, more as a way to start a conversation than anything else. He knew that if Jason needed assistance he would've sought it out.

Bruce had always felt that he and Jason had established an honest, loving relationship, in which Jason knew and trusted that he could come to him with any problems. The fact that there was clearly something going on with his son that Bruce wasn't privy to, didn't sit well with him. He'd briefly consulted with Alfred about the slight change in Jason's general demeanor. The butler had tried to impart to Bruce that Jason was a teenager, and long overdue for a friendship that allowed him a little healthy, adolescent freedom. It was perfectly standard for Jason to distance himself from his legal guardian slightly in favour of spending time with a friend his own age. Though the millionaire conceded to the Englishman's point, he was still a little uncomfortable with the possibility that something could be bothering Jason, perhaps he could help, but he couldn't do that if Jason didn't talk to him.

Jason gave a small sigh and shook his head, the smile he gave his guardian was genuine, if not a little muted, "Nah, I'm okay. I can handle it. Just a little distracted, I guess."

"Oh?" Bruce asked, as if he hadn't already presumed as much, "You wanna tell me what's on your mind?"

"It's not important, just stuff," Jason hedged, an indifferent shrug accompanied his words, but Bruce wasn't convinced.

Taking a stab in the dark Bruce wondered, "Does it have anything to do with your friend Roy?"

Bruce watched, almost baffled as Jason bit into his bottom lip almost shyly, there was a rush of blood under his pale skin and he looked almost embarrassed. Bruce hadn't anticipated such a telling response. Jason reached a hand back to scratch at the back of his neck. "Uh...You don't mind that I'm hanging out with him, right? I mean, I know you don't like him too much, but..."

It wasn't strictly true, not by any stretch. Bruce thought that Jason's lying had been irresponsible and reckless, he'd pondered the possibility of Roy being a bad influence, but he'd never met the boy, and wasn't one to pass judgments so quickly. He recognized that Jason was responsible for his own wrong-doing, regardless of the motivation. He thought perhaps he should make an effort to get to know the boy that had caused such a change in his son, however, he didn't want to step on any toes, or stick his nose in where it wasn't wanted. At 16, most kids didn't want their parents interfering with their business. Bruce weighed up his options.

"Jason, I've never said I don't like him, I was disappointed in your choices, and he might have been a part of that, but I don't blame him, or you...It's normal for you to want to step out a little more," Bruce took a seat on the foot of Jason's bed, and glanced down upon the boy who was still spread out on the floor, his head was tilted back to meet the older man's eyes. "Maybe you should invite him around for dinner next week, it's about time he came around here. You always go over there," When Jason didn't immediately respond, Bruce patted him on the shoulder before getting up to leave, "Just think about it,"

Jason watched Bruce leave and softly close the door behind him. With a sigh, he turned back to his homework, that lay unfinished before him. He was utterly unmotivated to complete the task set out. He wanted to talk to Roy. Despite his inner turmoil and confusion in regards to the extent and definition of his feelings, he still felt that Roy was essential, that somehow even with all of the over-thinking and pending panic, just speaking with the older boy calmed everything down, it was so effortless. With a quick glance at the clock, Jason knew that Roy would still be at band practice, it was a Friday night after all. He wished he could text him, just to say that he missed him, he wished he was in a position to do something like that and have it be simple.

It took just under an hour for him to complete his assignment, and once he'd finished he promptly filed it away in his backpack, so that it would be where he needed it be come Monday morning, it was comforting to have that little thing organized. It brought him peace of mind to know that he wouldn't need to touch his school things at all for the whole weekend, and they'd be ready for him when he needed them. He headed down to the kitchen to retrieve the left-overs that Alfred had dished up for him. He tapped a beat upon the marble counter top as he waited for the microwave to count down. He nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone vibrated in his pocket, the microwave beeping obnoxiously a few seconds later.

 **[text: Roy]:** Hey, what're you doing? :)

Jason couldn't help but smile as he quickly thumbed in a response. Roy was out with his band mates, who've known him longer than Jason has, who have more in common with him than Jason does, yet Roy still wanted to talk to _him_. That had to mean something, didn't it? Jason really hoped it did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, I hated the last chapter pretty much the second I posted it, so I felt a new one was in order.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dying to tell you anything  
> You want to hear  
> 'Cause that's just who I am this week.
> 
> Sugar, We're Going Down | Fall Out Boy

Roy knew that he was in too deep. The reality was that upon moving in with Oliver, he'd been full of boundless positive energy, the kind of disposition that can only be carried by children. He'd been so sure that everything was going to be so much better. Oliver had a huge house and shiny cars and Roy could have whatever he wanted, and though Roy had never been a materialistic person - not by any stretch - as a kid he'd been so enamored by the grand scale of Ollie's fortune, and the endless possibilities that were at his disposal as a result. He'd never expected things to go so down-hill so fast, he'd never imagined that he would be shunned and mocked by his school peers because of his background, he'd never thought that Oliver would leave him to his own devices so often that Roy felt completely alone in the world. He'd never dreamed that he'd somehow develop a habit for making self-destructive decisions as a means to cope with his negative feelings. But, ultimately, Roy had never seen Jason coming.

Jason had crawled under Roy's skin and made a home for himself, like the second that Roy's back was turned and his defenses were down, Jay had set up camp and vowed to stay. And suddenly, Roy felt like he could be better than what he was settling for. For the first time in entirely too long Roy had someone who brought out only the good in him, and Roy wished that it was enough, that one good person could be enough to erase all the damage that he'd done to himself, the damage that had been done to him.

He liked the version of himself that he saw in the distant, potential future whenever he thought about Jason's influence on him. He wanted to be the kind of person that Jason could be proud to associate with, and it was becoming increasingly more difficult for him to spend time with his band mates without feeling like he was being torn in two, the guilt ate away at him, eroded the edges of every thought he had, until the only clear thing in mind was Jason.

Roy loved drumming, always had. It was his freedom. But suddenly, he didn't know who he was, it wasn't exactly a foreign concept. Roy had remade himself upon joining Great Frog. He'd felt so out of step that the need to become someone else had been irresistible. He'd taken the position as drummer and modeled himself after those he'd admired. He'd decided on the person he was going to be, painted over his former self and gave the performance of a lifetime everyday. Fake it 'til you make it. He hadn't made it yet. He was barely settled in his new shoes, still trying to flesh out the nuances of his character, and already this rendition of himself he'd created felt unfamiliar. He felt like a fraud. When he was with Jason, he felt an overwhelming calm, a realization that _this is who i'm meant to be_ , but in every other aspect of his life he was bombarded with the feeling of _i don't know who i am, so i'll make someone new_.

Looking around Chucky's step-dad's garage at the mess of instruments and a precariously stacked CD collection, Roy just missed Jason. He passed the joint along and text his friend, and couldn't help the shit-eating grin that dominated his features when he got an almost instantaneous response.

 **[text: Jay]:** Not a lot :) Just finished my homework, what about you?

Roy nearly chuckled, it was so typical of Jay to have his priorities in order. Never put off until tomorrow what you have time to do today. If you fail to prepare, you prepare to fail. Roy quickly typed out a reply.

 **[text: Roy]:** Just band practice. Same old, same old. 

Roy wanted to tell Jason he missed him, but that would've been a little pathetic, and completely left-field. Roy himself wasn't entirely sure where that thought had come from, and though it was true, that didn't mean he felt particularity inclined to broadcast it. He could hear the boys talking around him, but he was paying no heed to the words, didn't even know the topic of discussion. His phone buzzed in his hand.

 **[text: Jay]:** This is really weird. Feel free to say no. But Bruce kinda wants you to come to dinner soon. 

Roy froze, and reread the message a few times. He didn't have an immediate response to that, wasn't sure of his own reaction. The idea of meeting Bruce Wayne was daunting, just the idea of the man intimidated him badly enough. It was also a little peculiar, Roy had never eaten dinner with a friend's parents before. He'd always thought of _dinner with the parents_ as a thing that _couples_ did, and he and Jason were certainly not romantically involved in any sense. If it had been anyone else asking, Roy would've declined, but he had a hard time saying no to Jason, and he refused to dwell on what that meant. 

**[text: Roy]:** sure, i'll be there

____________________

 

Roy palms were clammy and his fingers were quaking with nerves as he raised a hand to ring the door bell. He'd been dreading this ever since he'd initially agreed, all throught he school week Jason had been adamant that Roy could back out at any time, and it wouldn't be a problem. But, Roy had vowed to stick to his guns, so he found himself on the porch of Wayne Manor the following Saturday afternoon. There was a brief sound of shuffling from behind the door before it opened. Roy looked into the eyes of a balding man in formal wear, and in his peripheral he caught sight of Jason peering around the man's elbow. He grinned at him.

"Good afternoon, Master Roy," the man spoke, his accent was thick and distinctly English, "I'm Alfred Pennyworth, welcome to Wayne Manor. Master Bruce is being held up on a business call. So, why don't you and Master Jason wait upstairs and I'll call you when lunch is ready?"

Jason grabbed hold of Roy's wrist and dragged him up the stairs with a hurried 'thanks, Alfred!' over his shoulder. Roy rushed to keep up, his nerves quickly dissipated in the face of Jason's clear enthusiasm. They reached the second floor, and Jason led him to a room at the far end of the hall, it was large and luxurious, but clearly toned down enough and decorated appropriately for it to be Jason's bedroom. The desk was piled high with papers and textbooks, the book shelves were full of thick volumes with cracked spines that were clearly well-read. Jason stood in the room's center with a beaming smile on his face.

"Hi!" Jason finally greeted, and Roy chuckled.

"Hey, " he returned before gesturing to the scene in the foyer with a thumb over his shoulder, "What's with the 'master'? That's not like...a kinky thing, right?"

"Roy!" Jason gasped, clearly scandalized by the very idea but his eyes were shiny with bright amusement, even as he shoved at Roy's shoulder.

Roy just laughed at Jason's flushed cheeks, he found his friend's embarrassment rather endearing. Cracking jokes, no matter how inappropriate they may be, had always helped Roy compose himself a little, and ease the tension. There was a part of Roy that hoped that Jason was nervous too, so that he wouldn't be alone in this. He wanted to ask Jason about Bruce, wanted to say _what if he doesn't like me?_. The words pushed at his lips, but Roy would never let them out, couldn't make himself appear weak that way. He had to maintain his front, make out that he didn't give a fuck if Bruce Wayne didn't like him, he didn't need his validation anyway. Except, Roy really wanted Mr Wayne to like him, for Jason's sake mostly, but also because if he could convince one billionaire playboy that he wasn't so bad, that he was worth something, then perhaps there'd be hope still for the same acknowledgement from Oliver. Roy hated himself for having that thought, for dwelling on Oliver when the man didn't deserve it. Roy felt feeble, crying out for attention from someone who was unwilling to provide it, like he was screaming with his mouth closed and the sound was simply echoing back and deafening him.

"Jason!" 

A bellow came from the bottom of the stairs, the voice was deep and carried no inflection or accent, obviously not the butler. Jason smiled and ushered Roy back out of his bedroom, and Roy realized that he was about to come face-to-face with Bruce Wayne, and he really wasn't ready. Before he could voice any protest - not that he would regardless - Jason stopped abruptly and turned to him. The younger boy reached for Roy's hand, and briefly entwined their fingers, so briefly that Roy's mind hadn't caught up on what was happening until it was too late.

"It's okay," Jason murmured, and offered a smile of encouragement.

Roy steeled himself, squared his shoulders and raised his chin, he gave a nod.

"You ready?" Jay asked, almost teasingly.

"Born ready," Roy couldn't help but quip. 

Jason scoffed and chuckled good-naturedly, he gave Roy a fond smile that made the older boy feel 10 times more confident that he had been. He was as ready as he was going to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments! I'm so overwhelmed by the positive response this fic has gotten and I'm so grateful! I know that I don't always get around to responding to all of the comments I receive, because I don't always know what to say, but I read each and every one of them - multiple times - and they make me so happy! So thank you!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the wait. I've been very disheartened in regards to this fic. I'm not very confident in its progression and I've been struggling to update because I don't know if anything I write will be good enough.
> 
> However, I don't want to give up, so if you could all be patient with me, and let me know your thoughts, it would really help me get back in the swing of this and figure out how to continue.
> 
> Updated on mobile. Will correct typos and autocorrect after work.

They reached the bottom step and Roy looked up into the eyes of Bruce Wayne. Mr Wayne had a few inches on Roy's 5'9 frame, as was to be expected. Thanks to Roy's last growth spurt, he most likely only had a couple of inches to go before he reached maximum height. In fact, Roy was taller than a lot of boys his own age. But tilting his head back to look at Bruce Wayne was certainly intimidating. Roy reminded himself to maintain eye contact, but he was nervous, understandably. Bruce probably wasn't Roy's biggest fan, considering the bar and Jason's grounding. It made the entire encounter even more daunting.

Jason seemed oblivious to Roy's anxiety, or perhaps he simply knew that Roy wouldn't want attention drawn to it. Jason cupped a hand over Roy's shoulder and smiled up at his guardian. Bruce may have had a few inches on Roy, but he had a full foot on Jason. Roy almost smirked in fond amusement.

"Bruce, this is Roy." Jason introduced, there was a smile in his voice that didn't go unnoticed by either his friend or his father.

Bruce Wayne's eyes crinkled at the corners as he offered Roy a smile full of warmth, a reception that Roy had never thought to expect. Roy fumbled as he thrust a hand forward for the man to shake.

"It's nice to meet you, Roy." Bruce chuckled warmly as he gave Roy's hand a firm shake.

"You too, Mr Wayne," Roy got out.

Roy wasn't used to being unsure of himself in this way. Regardless of his mental doubts and insecurities, he prided himself on being outwardly sure of himself, it was his key defense. He felt vulnerable, exposed in this environment. He wasn't sure how he felt about these people seeing him this way, but the heat of Jason's hand on his shoulder and the seeming acceptance in Bruce's eyes were enough to ease his discomfort.

Suddenly, the butler reappeared in the foyer and cleared his throat to refocus attention. He looked between the people gathered at the foot of the staircase casually, a small smile graced his lips. Alfred inclined his head towards the dining room down the hall.

"Dinner's served," he informed them.

The took their seats quickly, large squares of cheesy, creamy lasagna were in the center of each large dinner plate, and deep, steaming dishes were passed around containing a selection of homegrown vegetables.

"Alfred has loads of stuff in his greenhouse, he's trying to grow strawberries right now," Jason imparted, smiling over at the aging man with adoring impression.

Roy really felt a sense of genuine family, for the first time since leaving the reservation. Alfred Pennyworth wasn't just the hired help, he was a member of the Wayne family, he was someone that Jason looked up to and valued and loved. There was a sense of warm familiarity in every inch of the manor, and instead of feeling out of place - the way that Roy feared he would - he felt welcomed. More at home than he ever had at Queen Mansion.

Roy tore off a piece of baguette bread, the garlic butter dripped down his palm as he dunked it into his hearty meal. Jason chuckled as a smear of meaty sauce marred Roy's chin. If the boys weren't so absorbed in their own laughter, they might have noticed the look that the two older men exchanged.

"So, Roy...Jason said you like music?" Bruce ventured.

Jason beamed at his guardian, he knew that Bruce was feeling out of his depth, and he was extremely grateful for the man's effort and interest. Roy stiffened slightly beside his friend, unsure of how to proceed without bringing up the unfortunate 'I took your son to a dive-bar' situation. Jason smiled encouragingly and discreetly squeezed his knee under the table.

"Uh, yeah... I, uh, I'm good with drums. I like music 'cause it's like... Like self-expression, y'know? Like people really listen to you, and they get it." Roy tried to explain, he wasn't sure if they could appreciate his sentiment.

Bruce nodded almost thoughtfully and took a few more bites of his dinner as he pondered his response. Roy looked down at the table top, he was apprehensive about whether or not he'd made sense. Though he felt very welcomed by them, he was still the new guy, and disrupting their usual dinnertime dynamic. He wasn't sure what was expected of him.

"What does your guardian think of your pursuit?" Bruce asked casually. It was a perfectly logical and warranted question, there was no way for Bruce to know how close to the mark it hit.

"Uh, he..he doesn't really care all that much. Pretty much just lets me do what I want, I guess." Roy figured it was best to be vague, give Bruce no ammunition for another inquiry.

Bruce furrowed his brow but didn't wrangle for a more elaborate answer. He glanced at Alfred briefly. Jason cleared his throat a little awkwardly.

"How's the new orphanage coming, Bruce?" Jason asked, before he turned to Roy to fill in the blanks, "There's an old orphanage called St Peter's, it's on its last legs, and pretty much wasn't salvageable. The Wayne foundation are opening a brand new home, and transferring all the St Peter's kids and staff to the new location. It's still under construction, but Bruce has been donating and helping out at St Peter's until the move."

Roy flickered a glance over Bruce Wayne, he hadn't expected the man to be so selfless. In his experience billionaire playboys were entitled and self-absorbed.

"That's uh...that's very nice of you." Roy said.

Bruce smiled at him before launching into a story about the faculty of the orphanage. Bruce had been helping them sort through the donated clothing so that they could match it up with children the same size. Alfred, Jason and Roy were deeply engrossed in the tale, and Roy marveled again at Mr Wayne's willingness to go out and do the dirty work himself for the sake of other people. He couldn't help but think that Ollie could learn a thing or two in this kind of company.

Though Roy felt awful for having the thought, he couldn't help but be envious of the supportive home environment that Jason had at Wayne Manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that this took so long. This was originally going to be longer but it's past midnight now and I wanted to get something posted before bed. It's a possibility that the next chapter will end where this one should have, and might be shorter as a result. Explicit drug use in this chapter.

The following week was Halloween, and the guys from Great Frog had been enlisted to play at some college party over in the neighbouring town. College students meant booze, and lots of it, and free. College students meant an apartment with no supervision and no closing time. Roy couldn’t help but be a little excited, and considering the next morning would be his birthday, Roy figured he’d much rather wake up hungover on some stranger’s carpet, than alone in the vastness of Queen Mansion.

Considering 17 wasn’t a milestone birthday, it was highly unlikely Oliver would make the effort to return home. But, even if he did, Roy wasn’t entirely sure he’d be happy to see him. Roy was content to let November 1st pass like it was any other day. However, he wanted Jason to come to the Halloween party with him. He knew that it wasn’t the younger boy’s idea of fun, and perhaps it was selfish to want him there, but Jay had quickly become his best friend, and having him around when the clock ticked over into his birthday would definitely make him feel less alone.

The trouble was, Jason had gotten into trouble - even gotten grounded - the last time Roy had taken him out with the guys. So, it was unlikely Bruce would allow the young boy to go anywhere with Roy again, at least not late at night. But, Roy was a firm believer in ‘if you don’t ask, you don’t get’.

He glanced over at Jason, as they finished off their respective lunches. Dinah had baked up some mini lemon squares - she’d spent the last few nights at the mansion, something about her apartment being renovated. Roy had woken up to find cooling treats on the kitchen counter, beside a note in Dinah’s elegant script. Roy had packed a few in his bag, and had shared them with Jason. It was the least he could do considering how often Jason shared some of Alfred’s baked goods.

“So, do you get along with Dinah?” Jason asked as he picked up a square.

“Yeah, she’s okay. I don’t see her all that much. Way more fun than Ollie. And she treats me like her kid without making me feel like a child, if that makes sense?” Roy shrugged. He liked Dinah, but they weren’t particularly close.

Jason groaned appreciatively as he took the final bite of the tart dessert, a few wayward crumbs clung to the corners of his mouth, and Roy was overcome with the sudden urge to reach over and wipe them away. He decided not to dwell on that intrusive and bizarre line of thinking. He had a question to ask anyway.

“So,” he began conversationally, “It’s my birthday Saturday.”

“I know,” Jason replied, his lips curving into an amused, but soft smile.

“Yeah, well, there’s a Halloween party tomorrow night, the band’s been asked to play. And, I figure, it could be a Halloween-Birthday combo party. And you should come.” Roy imparted, aiming for nonchalant, like it wouldn’t matter if Jason said no.

“Me? At a college party?” Jay asked, his amused grin become more pronounced, “Aren’t I a little young - and a little straight-edge - for those people?”

“Yeah, I figured it wouldn’t be something you’d wanna do, but I just wanted to ask. ‘Cause it’s my birthday and you’re my best friend, and I didn’t want you to think I was just making plans without you.” Roy scratched at the back of his neck, a little nervous tick that Jason had learnt to pick up on.

Jason’s thoughts focused on the verbal confirmation that he was Roy’s best friend, not those guys from the band who had far more in common with him. It made something clench tight in his chest. If he were being honest with himself his crush on Roy was getting a little ridiculous, bordering on pathetic. But, there was really nothing to be done about it.

“Plus,” Roy went on, “Bruce probably won’t want a repeat performance of last time. I wouldn't want you to get grounded again.”

Jason shrugged a little and offered a small smile. “Bruce was actually more disappointed about the lying. I’ll see if I can work on him this time.”

Roy seemed to light up from the inside as he met Jason’s gaze, “So you’ll come?”

Jason chuckled, “I can’t make any promises, but I’m gonna try.”

* * *

 

That evening Jason did try. He worked every angle he could.

“Bruce, I’ve never asked you for anything, and I know I lied last time and I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry. I’m asking you now because I learnt my lesson last time, and this is really important to me. He’s my best friend and it’s his birthday and I really wanna be there. In all the time I’ve been here I’ve only ever done one thing you didn’t like and I promise it won’t happen again. And I’ll do all my homework before I go, just please, please pleas-”

“Jason,” Bruce cut off the boys incessant rambling, there was a slight curve at the corner of the man’s mouth, almost amused.

Jason jutted out his lower lip in a trembling, pleading pout and Bruce couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

Bruce sighed. “Alright, listen carefully, you can go on certain conditions,” he began, “You take your phone with you and you text every hour to let us know that you’re safe. And you have Alfred pick you up at midnight.”

“But the party will probably only just be starting then!”

“You really shouldn’t fight me on this, it’s a miracle I’ve allowed this much. Midnight, no later, Jason.”

“Can’t we please make it ten past? Please?” Jason implored.

Bruce raised an eyebrow as he looked over his son, “What difference would ten minutes make?”

Jason ducked his head as a vivid blush stole over his face. He’d really put his foot in his mouth and this was beyond embarrassing. “Uh…” he hedged, “it’s just...it’ll be his birthday come midnight and I kinda wanted to wish him happy birthday when his birthday starts…”

Bruce sighed, and rolled his eyes, but thankfully didn’t comment. “Fine, ten past it is.”

Jason was excited, he was positive that Roy would love the gifts he’d bought him - one of them cost a small fortune - he didn’t want to give them to Roy at the party where they could easily be misplaced and stolen. He mentioned it to Roy and they’d come to the conclusion that Jason would go over to Queen Mansion the following afternoon. They’d watch movies and Jason would take pity on Roy in his hungover state, and Jason would then give Roy his gifts.

Jason knew that it was within his best interest to somehow distance himself - emotionally, that is - from Roy. He really couldn’t afford for his growing affection towards his best friend to end up skewing his judgement anymore than it already had. He had to make peace with the fact that he and Roy were friends - best friends - and nothing more. The one and only time that Roy had expressed anything other than platonic interest in someone it had been with that groupie at battle of the bands, the very female groupie. And more than just the sexuality complication, Jason and Roy had very little in common, they got along famously and it was clearly enough for Jason to want more, but that didn’t mean that Roy felt the same. For all Jason knew, Roy could be looking for someone more like himself, with more common interests. At the heart of it, Jason was a smart kid who tutored him, who had - against the odds - become his friend. That wasn't typically romance material. So, Jason just had to steel himself against these feelings.

* * *

 

As it was a Halloween party, costumes were required, but since it was a very last minute thing on Jason’s part, he’d simply roughed up some old threadbare clothing, splattered himself with fake blood, and announced himself a zombie. Roy had opted for something similar, just applying a slit throat with make-up one of his band mates had stolen from a younger sister.

Jason sat idly to the side as the band set up. Roy’s bandmates had said very little to him since his arrival, perhaps they didn’t like him and were holding a grudge because of what had happened during their last encounter. Jason couldn’t bring himself to care. He wasn’t interested in their opinions. Roy glanced over at him every couple of minutes, as if checking that he hadn’t gone anywhere, and each time he smiled at him. It really wasn’t helping Jason’s resolve.

Before long people started to trickle in, the party was surely not far from starting. It was nearing ten o’clock and Jason begrudged the fact he’d have to leave far too soon for his liking. He grinned when he saw Roy approaching.

“We should start playing soon, we’ll probably be going for like half an hour, 45 minutes. You good here?” The older boy asked, his brow furrowed and there was genuine concern in his eyes. A lump formed in Jason’s throat at the sight of it.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Roy. Just enjoy yourself, okay?”

Roy smiled, wide and happy, a little too happy. But, Jason had seen the boys consume a couple of beers each during their set-up, so it wouldn’t surprise him if Roy was already a little buzzed.

“Always do,” Roy quipped before bringing a hand up to squeeze softly at the back of Jason’s neck.

Chuck called Roy away in the next second and Jason watched him go. Once Roy had disappeared from sight Jason couldn’t help but lift his own hand to where Roy’s had been, to feel the lingering warmth from the touch. He was a goner.

Roy followed Chuck into the apartments small bathroom, he flicked the latch and stood on the toilet to reach and open the small window. From the inside pocket of his jacket, Chuck retrieved a folded square foil, a lighter and a baggie of smack. He motioned Roy closer.

“Alright, this shit is easier to do with two people. The second the heroin starts smoking, it needs to be inhaled, there's too much risk of wasting this shit if we don’t get our timing right. But, this is quicker and safer than injecting and we’ve got a gig to play.” Chuck began, he abruptly turned away from Roy and ripped the toilet paper out of it’s holder. He yanked the remaining tissue off of the roll and flung it into the waste basket, he held the cardboard tube up to Roy with a triumphant grin.

“What do you need me to do?” Roy asked, eyeing the items that Chuck had assembled.

“Simple. Someone smokes while the other does the cooking, so to speak. I’ll smoke first to show you how it’s done,” He began. “Foil heats almost instantly, and cools down pretty quick too. The less time the smack is on the heat, the less smoke, and the less waste. All you gotta do is hold the foil square, and when I give the cue, you light the flame under it. I’ll take a drag and when I’m almost done I’ll signal again. You remove the flame, and we switch, okay?” Chuck searched Roy’s expression for comprehension.

“What’s the tube for?” Roy asked.

“Smoking. See, if you inhale through something too small, the smoke escapes around the sides, if it’s too big then you can’t inhale comfortably and lose some. If we don’t get as much of the smoke as possible we’re just losing quality drugs into thin air.” Chuck nodded resolutely and handed the foil and lighter to Roy.

Roy did as instructed and held the foil level as Chuck emptied the baggie onto its surface. He held the tube about an inch above the substance and leaned his face over the tube, his mouth fitting to the cardboard ready to inhale. He threw a thumbs up to Roy and Roy flicked on the lighter. After Chuck had successfully inhaled he made a dismissive move with his hand. Roy removed the flame and Chuck breathed out. They switched places.

It wasn’t long before they returned to the lounge, where the band equipment had been set up in the corner, encompassing a significant portion of the floor space. People were starting to gather, the room was seeming smaller by the second with the vast amount of guests that were rapidly pouring in. With just 10 minutes to go before they were set to play, Roy sought out Jason.

He found the boy on the patio, leaning against the railing with a cigarette between his teeth. Roy smiled as he leant beside him and retrieved his own cigarette from his pocket. He leaned across, getting into Jason’s face just enough that the end of his unlit cigarette came into contact with the red flare of Jason’s. He held there for a second before inhaling, drawing back and dispelling smoke, having successfully lit his cigarette off of the younger boy’s.

“I have a lighter, you know.” Jason said after a flustered moment.

“So do I,” Roy quipped back with a wink.

Jason shivered a little in the night time breeze, his tattered t-shirt did very little to shield his body from the cold. Roy shrugged out of his denim bomber jacket, haphazardly adorned with various patches of different band logos. He draped it over Jason’s shoulders.

“Would it have killed you to wear a jacket?” Roy teased, but there was worry laced in his tone.

“I thought it would ruin my zombie aesthetic,” Jason shrugged as he relished in the warmth of the too-large coat.

Roy chuckled, then let loose a hearty laugh. He reached a hand to the back of Jason’s neck again and gave another reassuring squeeze. Jason closed his eyes for a second and felt truly content.

“I’m really glad you could make it,” Roy whispered.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry that this took so long, i have no excuse! but i hope you all know that every comment and kudos i get really do mean the world to me and remind that i need to get this finished for you! <3 
> 
> I have been thinking about adding Dick to this story since day 1, the problem is that I'm a HUGE dickroy shipper. They were my first ever Roy ship. Outsiders is my favourite version of Roy and definitely the best comic for dickroy! So, I was apprehensive about adding Dick to the mix here because his friendship with Roy is so, so important to me and I wouldn't feel right if i gave myself the opportunity to write it (by having Dick show up) but then didn't follow through on it (because i have certain things in mind that i want to do for this story and don't want to get side-tracked or distract away from the progression of jayroy) ultimately i just didn't want to overwhelm myself so dick won't be appearing

Roy finished his cigarette quickly, with a soft smile and not another word spoken, he headed inside. Jason tugged the oversized jacket tighter around himself, tried to stop his treacherous little heart from making it into something it wasn’t. He returned to the common room that was the makeshift stage and watched Roy twirl his drumsticks.

 

As the band took the stage, Jason once again found himself mesmerized by Roy. The long column of his neck shone in the dim light, sweat-slick with his hair curled at the nape, beer dribbling down the cut of his jaw as he tipped his head back and drained what was left of it. So much had changed since the last time that Jay had seen Great Frog perform. He knew better now why his eyes were drawn to Roy always, it was easier to watch him this way, when he was so immersed in the music that he became one with it, he wouldn’t notice Jason’s lingering glances as they followed his every move like a soft caress.

 

Unlike Battle of the Bands, there was no competitive edge here, no case of one-upmanship that had the boys hungry. Great Frog played the way they always should have, lost to the beat and not having anything to prove. The college kids seemed to be enjoying the music, dancing and bobbing their heads and cheering away, perhaps they were too intoxicated to care. Regardless, the party was in swing and the atmosphere was alive, it was a heady feeling. Even though Jason was sober - perhaps the only occupant of the building who was - even he felt swept away a little, lost to the music and the collective feeling of letting loose.

 

He spied a group of girls huddled together at the opposite side of the stage, being totally unsubtle about their appreciation for the band. Jason knew it shouldn’t upset him, he had no claim on Roy, and he was still dealing with the true extent of his feelings himself. He didn’t know how to begin to process the fact that his first love was a boy, and he had yet to find a way to tell anyone. He clenched his fingers tightly in the denim of Roy’s jacket, burrowed deeper into the warmth of it, couldn’t help himself.

 

There were endless reasons why he and Roy would simply never work out, and though it hurt to acknowledge that, Jay knew that it was really in his best interest to accept that as soon as possible. Roy was a little older - and though 2 years really wasn’t anything to shout about, Jason’s 15 felt impossibly young in the face of Roy’s lifestyle and his friends and hobbies. Jason sometimes felt like a child, not to Roy, he knew Roy wouldn’t ever think of him that way, but the guys from the band often acted like he was a pestering younger sibling. They had very little in common. Jason knew that he’d barely scratched the surface of the troubles that plagued his friend, but he knew that Roy knew very little about him in comparison. Jason often felt that he was lying, there was just so much that he kept shrouded, a whole other life before this one that Roy wasn’t privy to. Roy was confident and self-assured and enjoyed a full, no-strings-attached sex life. Jason had never even been remotely attracted to anyone before Roy and he wasn’t sure what that meant, wasn’t sure if sex was even something that he wanted. Roy was his best friend and Jason was perhaps a little in love with him and he couldn’t bare the thought of being just another drunken fling even though he knew that was what Roy did. Not to mention, Roy liked girls. All in all, Jason was royally screwed.

 

He’d resigned himself to accept it, his affections were not meant to be returned and that was fine. Roy Harper was the best friend he’d ever had, and he was so grateful for that, nothing else really mattered. That didn’t mean that the sight of so many older, pretty girls fluttering their eyelashes at Roy didn’t hurt, though. The sting of it resonated in his chest and Jason didn’t think he could keep watching, he wasn’t quite that strong enough.

 

He made his way to the back patio, the band were finishing up their set and one of the college kids was haphazardly setting up a docking station in the far corner, presumably so he could take charge of the music. Jason slid open the glass door and closed it tightly behind him. He was surprised how much of the noise was contained. The night was calm, the muffled and muted sounds of Great Frogs final song were a background hum, there was a distant sound of traffic and a howling wind, it was dark and tranquil, and just what Jason needed to collect himself. He sparked up a cigarette and inhaled.

 

He thought back to the way Roy had leaned in close, the ends of their cigarettes touching, the smoke of their breaths mingling in the space between them, he thought about the wide smile Roy had sent him and the wink he’d dropped. Jason shook his head to clear it, it would do him no good to dwell on fantasies, to dissect and analyze and see things that weren’t there.

 

Winter was fast approaching and it was certainly a lot colder than he’d been anticipating. If it hadn’t been for Roy’s jacket still draped around him, he wouldn’t have been able to brave the temperature for much longer. He shivered slightly and flicked the butt of his cigarette over the railing. Absently, he wondered where the guys from the band were, they usually had a smoke after a set. He figured that they were reloading their equipment into the van, and he decided to offer his help. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to fire off a quick text to Alfred, before spotting the time: _23:47_.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” He breathed. He was supposed to be meeting Alfred at the campus gates at 10 past, it would take him a 5 minute walk at least.

 

There were 13 minutes left until Roy’s 17th birthday, and the party had barely begun. Jason felt even more like a child when confronted with his impending curfew. He had to find Roy, to spend the remainder of his time at this party glued to the other boy’s side, Roy was his best friend and he’d wanted him to be there for him.

 

Jason suddenly felt selfish, he’d been so consumed with his own hurt and jealousy that he hadn’t even watched the band's whole set, he’d turned tail the second he saw those girls making doe eyes at his friend. But, this night wasn’t about him, and his stupid feelings that he couldn’t turn off no matter how much he wanted to. He’d been a coward and ducked outside and now he didn’t even know where Roy was.

 

With his jaw locked and his eyes flashing in determination, he pushed his way through the swarm of bodies, straight through from one side of the house to the other. He spotted Roy’s bandmates just as they were locking the van, but Roy didn’t seem to be with them. Jason hurried over regardless, undeterred by whatever they might think of him.

 

“Hey, guys. Where’s Roy?” He asked, aiming for nonchalance.

 

Chuck gazed at him for a prolonged moment, his eyes were glassy and red-rimmed and his hair was a mess. Finally, he snorted and his lips fell into a lopsided grin. Jason couldn’t explain the sudden dark feeling of dread that settled deep in his gut. “Lucky fucker gets all the action,” He crowed suddenly, far too loud for their current conversation.

 

“Drummers _definitely get some_ ,” Joey giggled at his own joke before he slumped back against the van.

 

Jason couldn’t breathe, didn’t know how to respond in a way that wouldn’t make his hurt obvious. He didn’t know these guys, didn’t particularly like them either. And he was stood in some college car park with them whilst his best friend, the most important person in the world to him, was in the dark with some nameless, faceless girl and Jason _hated her_. His throat burned and the backs of his eyes stung and he didn’t want to be here.

 

The weight of Roy’s jacket was suddenly too much, he shrugged it off like it was burning and he handed it off to Chuck. “It’s Roy’s, I gotta go and he-” speaking was like coughing up razors, but Jason didn’t even get the chance to suffer through a single sentence.

 

As if he’d heard Chuck’s shouting - and perhaps he had, maybe that had been Chuck’s intention all along - Roy stumbled around the side of the building, shit eating grin on his face. He swayed as he moved, his eyes were unfocused and he was dopey happy and so absolutely wasted and a part of Jason wanted to hate him so much. Before Jason could even begin to recover another blow came, a rustle from the corner sounded and a second body fell out, equally dopey-wasted, a second _male_ body, mussed up hair and strikingly unfamiliar and wiping absently at his mouth. Jason couldn’t breathe.

 

Joey laughed, loud and obnoxious and totally unsurprised. He high-fived Roy like it was nothing, like Jason’s whole heart wasn’t lying in the gravel between them. Roy’s flavour of the night just offered up a smirk and walked away, completely uninterested in their banter.

 

“Dude. Birthday blowjob? _Nice!_ ” Joey continued, Roy just shoved him.

 

Numbly, Jason drew out his phone: _00:02_.

 

Without a word, Jason was moving, striding towards the gate. He heard someone following him, undoubtedly Roy, but he couldn’t do this with him now, too raw, too much. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he whirled. He shoved at Roy, his hurt and his frustration and his anger were simmering under the surface. Roy staggered under the blow, and went down to the ground like a sack of shit, too drunk to even hold himself up under the onslaught. Tears burned at the edges of Jason’s eyes and he stubbornly, furiously wiped them away.

 

Roy just blinked up at him, confused and uncertain, as if he’d already forgotten how he’d even fallen. Roy let out a little drunken giggle and Jason knew that Roy was oblivious, had never meant to hurt him, was too drunk to think that far. Jason knew logically that his anger was misplaced and unwarranted. Roy had never promised Jason a thing, _not a goddamn fucking thing_ . This wasn’t a betrayal. It just felt like one because Jason was a coward, an insecure, hopeless-in-love, _coward._

 

With a wet sniffle, Jason reached out his hand and yanked Roy up. The stared each other in the face for a long moment before Jay’s eyes fluttered closed. He didn’t know if he could do this. Roy’s hand came up to smooth over Jason’s hair and the younger boy wanted to push him away, didn’t want to become dependant on this comfort when it wasn’t in the way that he wanted. It didn’t mean the same thing to Roy.

 

“Jay…”Roy slurred, his voice was low and a little sad, he sounded close to sleep. “Wha-...Wha’s wrong?” He finally breathed, his breath reeked of stale booze and cigarettes, “Di-Did I do somethin’?”

 

Jason took a deep breath and tried his hardest to restrain himself from blurting out the truth. _No. You didn’t do anything, not really. Just turns out that you do like guys after all, you just don’t like me. And somehow that’s worse, but it’s not your fault._

 

He needed to go, Alfred would be waiting. Jason glanced back over Roy’s shoulder, the car park was empty, the party back in full swing inside. He sighed softly. He looked up into Roy’s face couldn’t quite believe how wasted and loopy he seemed to be. He knew without a doubt that Roy would not remember this night, and he had a nagging suspicion that Roy had intended it that way.

 

Jason knew it was wrong, knew that he shouldn’t let this happen, that it wasn’t fair on either of them, but there was an ache in his chest and he just wanted something for himself for a change. Slowly, softly, like a breath, like it didn’t even happen but it did, Jason pressed his lips to Roy’s. It was a tiny, fraction of a second, barely there before he breathed “Happy Birthday,” and stood back.

  
“Go back inside. They’re waiting, birthday boy!” He ordered, tried to sound enthusiastic, tried to sound like he wasn’t dying. And Roy gave a nod that was too jerky, and turned and walked away.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please heed the tags!!! They're there for a reason!!!!!

Roy woke up and instantly wished that he hadn’t. He blinked bleary eyes towards the clock, and it flashed 9:06am. Having not arrived home until just past 4 that morning, he was certainly feeling the exhaustion weighing down on him. His head ached and throbbed, his throat was dry and his breath stale.

He made to sit up and the motion rocked his queasy stomach, frantically he kicked away the bed sheets and dashed to the adjoining bathroom. The meager contents of his stomach splattered in the toilet bowl and left him heaving, the stench of it left him retching long after it had finished coming up. He sat back on his haunches and rested the side of his face on the toilet seat, his eyes stared unseeingly ahead of him. He took a haggard breath.

With one last painful cough, he shoved away from the toilet bowl and stood. He scrubbed a hand down his face and pondered his reflection in the mirror. He definitely looked worse for wear. He turned on the water to let it run cold, before splashing it over his face and rubbing along the back of his neck. His hair was greasy, his face pale and eyes weighed down with dark circles. “Happy fucking birthday to me,” he sighed.

After a quick shower that left him feeling a little less like death reheated, he stumbled to the kitchen to hunt for food. He craved something fatty and greasy and absolutely atrocious for him. Everyone knew that junk food was the only sure fire way to fend off the worst of a hangover.

His moves were sluggish, his limbs felt weighed down, but he was long accustomed to the aftermath of a successful night of partying. He didn’t remember all of what had happened the prior evening. Some of it came back to him in fits and starts, but he couldn’t seem to put them in sequence. He didn't know the correct timeline for the events he could recall, but even so, he knew that there were a lot of things that were lost completely, black spots in his memory never to be recovered. Roy didn’t think anything of it. It was par for the course with his weekends these days, and sometimes he was glad that he didn’t have to remember, didn’t have to dwell too much on his poor choices.

The house was large, empty. It was lonely in the worst kind of way, long corridors and draughty rooms. Roy was there in the middle, alone. For the millionth time Roy missed the sense of community that had been a part of the Tachii’ni tribe, a sense of belonging that he’d always taken for granted when he had it. Maybe it was because it was his birthday, maybe it was brought on by the vulnerable nature of a hangover, but for whatever reason Roy felt a prickling behind his eyes that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He huffed an incredulous breath and pushed forward, yanking open the fridge with more force than necessary. The contents was pitiful, very little there to satisfy his suddenly ravenous appetite. He’d have to raid the cupboards and make do.

The brief swell of unwelcome melancholy had left him a little off-kilter. He needed a distraction, a slight stress relief. He needed a smoke. He quickly filled the kettle and set it on its hot plate, he dug a pot noodle out of the cupboard and sat it ready on the counter, before he set out to find his cigarettes whilst he waited for the water to boil. It didn’t take him long to locate his jacket, and he tipped out the contents of his pockets. An almost empty pack of smokes, a lighter, a handful of change, his phone and a little plastic baggy stared up at him.

He froze for a second. He never brought drugs back to the house. He never kept them on his person. He’d never taken them alone, it was a social thing, a recreational habit. It wasn’t a big deal. Even without all his memories from the party, he knew without a second's hesitation that he had not put that in his pocket. It wasn’t his. There wasn’t much of it left, barely a single fix left in the bag. The white powder seemed so harmless in the daylight, like flour or sugar, so unremarkable in appearance. Despite his late night activities, Roy wasn’t an expert on substances, he knew what the guys from the band taught him. He knew enough to not take anything from anyone who wasn’t willing to do it themselves. But his bandmates had always taken the first hit before passing it along, and Roy put two and two together to come to the obvious conclusion that they wouldn’t give him anything that was overly dangerous. Chuck was meticulous and knowledgeable. He always got his fix as safe as possible. He didn’t shop around. He didn’t snort through money, there’s more germs on a one dollar bill than the average toilet seat. Roy trusted Chuck enough to know that if he was going to be doing this shit anyway, at least it was with someone who knew what they were talking about, someone like Chuck. Squinting at the powder now, Roy concluded that it was heroin. There was a time, not too long ago, that he wouldn’t have been able to tell it and cocaine apart. But heroin was finer, and he remembered he and Chuck cramped in that bathroom with the cardboard tube as Chuck lectured about correct heroin use, that was how their night had started. But, that still left him with the question of what he was going to do about it now. He didn’t want to keep it here if he could help it, but he didn’t want to dispose of it either. With a huff he haphazardly shoved it back in his pocket and grabbed his smokes and his phone before turning his back.

He stood outside the back door and sparked up. After he took a long drag of his cigarette, he began to relax. Almost as an afterthought, he checked his phone. He had a text from Chucky, it had been sent at just past 4am, probably shortly after they’d parted ways once the party was over.

 **[text: Chuck]:** Enjoy the leftovers birthday boy! Dont say i never give you nothing! ;)

Roy furrowed his brow, confused for only a second before he recalled the mystery baggie in his pocket. He scoffed. _Figures_. “Happy fucking birthday to me,” he repeated.

After he’d taken a final drag of his cigarette he took the butt back inside, ran it under the cold tap to put it out and then swilled it down the waste disposal to get rid of it. He wasn’t entirely sure what Oliver’s stance on cigarettes was, and he wasn’t eager to find out. At least in that one sense, it was fortunate that his guardian was never around. Even so, he wasn’t eager to leave cigarette ends all over the garden. With a sigh he returned to the kettle and prepared his pot noodle. It was a little early for it, it was still an acceptable breakfast time, but there was little to eat in the house and he was too drained to extend much effort in food preparation.

He glanced around the empty living room as he headed to take a seat. He remembered his birthdays on the reservation, presents ready for him on the rug in the middle of the room. Brave Bow would be so proud, so eager for his little Lost Arrow to enjoy his gifts. But Roy wasn’t that same little kid anymore. That boy was gone. He thought back to the boy who’d gotten a skateboard and a tent and a backpack. But, the boy he was now had an empty sitting room and half a baggie of heroin. This was his life. It was heartbreaking. It was pathetic.

Pondering how drastically his life had changed, and how alone it had left him, made that sharp, stinging sensation behind his eyes return. Roy wasn’t a crier, rarely shed a tear. He was often someone who channeled his more hard to handle emotions until reckless distractions, which - if he were being honest with himself - was what his whole life had become over the prior months, since he joined the band. He wasn’t good at processing, and the added hindrance of being left alone to deal with things only made it harder.

The red light on the answering machine blinked just like always, and with a stuttering breath in he pressed play. There was a brief moment of static, as if someone was moving the phone, before Dinah’s voice sounded. “Good morning, birthday boy! I wish I could see you sooner, but I have a breakfast with a business associate.” She sounded genuinely remorseful and Roy was so grateful for her. “Don’t you worry though! You can’t get rid of me that easy! I’ll be over this evening to drive you crazy! How about we order pizza? My treat! And because I couldn’t stand the thought of you having nothing to open when you woke up, I posted your card first thing as I drove past! I’ll bring your present by later! Happy birthday! Have a great day!” Roy felt himself smile despite himself. It was comforting to know that someone cared.

A resounding beep marked the end of the message and the next one started up immediately. This time Oliver’s voice came through. “Happy birthday, kiddo!” He cheered, there was a lot of background noise wherever he was. For all Roy knew he was in a totally different time zone. Roy felt guilty for assuming the worst of his guardian, but for a brief moment he was surprised that Oliver had even remembered his birthday. “Sorry I can’t spend it with you, but a kid your age probably doesn't want his old man hanging around anyway! I’m sure you’ll have a fun time! I’ll see ya! Be good!”

As the message ended Roy sniffed, the tears became harder to keep at bay. Despite everything, he missed Ollie. He felt like a fool, a sniveling child. What kind of 17 year old boy was reduced to tears just because he was home alone? Most teens would think he had it made, would die to be in his situation, this big house all to their self with no supervision. Roy just wanted Oliver to ruffle his hair and give him a hard time for eating a pot noodle for breakfast. _You ask for nothing, and he gives you less._

Numbly, Roy retrieved the post from the doormat, his name written across a coloured envelope in Dinah’s elegant script, the rest just bills and statements in Oliver’s name. No card from Oliver, maybe it was still in the post, if he was in another country it would take longer to arrive. But as Roy opened the card from Dinah, and saw it signed ‘Love Ollie & Dinah x’, in Dinah’s hand, Roy knew that that was all he’d get. Oliver probably didn't even think about taking the time to sign his name and posting a card of his own to the boy who could be his son if he’d just take the time to be a father. Dinah must have known that too, and taken the time to try and rectify Oliver’s mistake, same as always. It wasn’t enough.

He put the card face down on the counter, couldn’t look at it a moment longer. He just wanted to forget. He just wanted, for even a second, to have some sort of distraction. In his peripheral he saw his jacket slung over the back of the sofa, and without thinking he retrieved the baggie. On auto-pilot he walked into the kitchen, he tipped the powder out onto a sheet of foil, emulating Chuck’s actions from the prior evening, and making necessary substitutes to accommodate for the lack of an extra pair of hands, Roy set up his fix. He placed the foil atop a baker's cooling rack, stood it over the gas hob and turned it on low. He took the few remaining sheets off of the kitchen roll, and gathered the powder into a pile small enough to fit the mouth of the cardboard tube around it. He lowered his mouth to the open end of the tube and smoked quickly.

If he was in a better frame of mind, Roy might have considered that doing drugs in a non-social setting could be dangerous for him. Substances affect different users differently, everything from mood to diet can alter the outcome. Drugs with the guys from the band was one thing, a party, a celebratory, recreational habit. They fed off of each other's enthusiasm and lessened the comedown with alcohol or weed. It was easier to handle. But getting high alone as a way to ward off his sadness was a whole different kettle of fish. But he wasn’t thinking in terms of logic. He was thinking about instant gratification. He was thinking in terms of immediate results. He just didn't want to feel like this right now. He just couldn't dwell on the things in his life that went wrong.

Once he was finished he cleaned away all evidence of what he’d done. And within the next 20 minutes he was blissfully ignorant to all the negative feelings that had previously plagued him. He snorted as he spied the card on the counter, “Fuck him,” he laughed. Who needed Oliver Queen anyway?

With the knowledge that Dinah would be stopping by that evening, Roy set about getting the house in order. He was boundless in energy and was eager to do something, too restless to do nothing. He put his clothes from the prior night in the washing machine, even his jacket, the residual stench of booze and cigarette smoke would not go unnoticed by Dinah. He turned his playlist up to high volume and got to work. And if he used the hoover to air guitar along to ‘ _Renegade_ ’ by Styx, well, no one was around to call him on it. It was certainly better than weeping over a stupid fucking birthday card.

It was an hour or two later, and the last remaining task was the dirty dishes. He always put them off as long as possible, the texture of soggy food always made his skin crawl. It had been building up for a few days now and Roy sighed, he’d just made a larger job for himself. As he methodically washed one item after another, taking the time to dry and put away each before returning to the sink - effectively tackling three jobs at once - his mind wandered. He felt run down and his head ached, he couldn’t tell if it was residual from his earlier hangover or a result of the heroin comedown, perhaps a combination of the two.

He thought back over Oliver’s message, the card with his name written in Dinah’s hand. Roy had managed to successfully avoid his feelings for a couple of blessed hours, but now he had nothing but his thoughts to occupy him, nothing but the painstaking truth that no matter what he did, he wasn’t good enough. Maybe he was the problem. Maybe if he wasn’t around Oliver would come home. He was keeping Oliver from his own house, keeping him away from Dinah. Oliver had probably felt obligated to take him in, couldn’t turn him away. Oliver had done more for him than he’d had to and Roy had just grown to resent him at every turn. What kind of person did that make him? To live in a man’s house and be provided for without question, and then curse that same man whenever his back was turned. No wonder Oliver didn't want him. No wonder he’d ended up alone.

He felt the sting of tears once again and was so frustrated that he’d seemingly lost his composure so many times in a single day. Maybe things would be better off if he wasn’t here, but he had nowhere to go, and wasn’t entirely sure that he would feel better anywhere else even if he could leave. He blinked rapidly to dispel the urge to weep, and continued to wash the few remaining dishes. He gripped the handle of a kitchen knife as he redrew it from the water, he wiped away the suds as he cleaned it.

So preoccupied was he with his emotional downward spiral, he didn't take enough care in how he handled the blade, and sliced his finger with a sharp and immediate sting. He jumped back, and dropped the knife back into the water. He stared bewildered for a prolonged second at the open wound, a thin line that seemed far too small for the flow of blood it seemed to be letting loose. Without thought he retrieved the knife once more, he stared at the edge that had done the damage, stared at the blood still dripping, running down his palm, over his upturned wrist. _Maybe things would be simpler. Better._ He angled the blade down.

A knock at the door brought him back to himself. He jumped in place, the knife clattered to the draining board with a metallic clang. “Fuck,” he hissed. He blinked a few times to clear his head, suddenly overwhelmed by the direction his thoughts had taken, his skin felt too tight and his chest felt like it was burning. The knock resounded again.

He yanked the door open, surprised to find Jason there. “Happy Birthday!” His friend greeted enthusiastically. It took Roy a second to comprehend, before he remembered his plans to spend the afternoon with Jay. The morning had been an emotional rollercoaster, he couldn't be blamed for forgetting. “Roy?” The younger boy spoke up again, his voice laced with concern and his brow furrowed.

Roy shook himself mentally and forced on a smile. “Thanks,” he said. He stepped back to welcome Jason inside.

Jason followed him in and opened his mouth to speak, but he stopped abruptly, his eyes wide and horrified, his mouth still agape. “Roy, holy shit, are you okay?” He stepped closer, lifting Roy’s hand with a touch so delicate it was alarming. He cradled Roy’s hand gently, turning it up to the light so he could inspect the wound. Roy had to concede that the line of red marring his forearm, running down from his finger, that was slowly drying against his skin, did leave it looking a little nightmarish.

“I’m fine. I just sliced it in the kitchen s’all, looks way worse than it is.” He tried to placate.

Jason ran a thumb along the joint of Roy’s wrist and smiled softly up at him. “We should get this cleaned up so you can open your presents. Don’t want blood all over ‘em.”

Roy was tired, aching. His eyes felt heavy and he wanted to sleep. He was fed up of feeling close to tears and he doubted he’d be good company for anyone. But, Jason being so enthusiastic about his birthday, showing up with presents and a smile and showing such care, it made a warmth ignite in Roy’s chest. Maybe his birthday could be salvaged yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year!!!
> 
> I'm sorry for being so late and I sincerely hope that people are still interested! I can't believe this fic is over a year old already!!
> 
> I know that depression and suicidal ideation are more common symptoms of a cocaine comedown, but if someone has depression, taking heroin can worsen the condition. (Whereas cocaine depression is temporary and cicrumstantial). In fact people who suffer from depression and suicidal ideation are actually 14% MORE likely to commit suicide if they also take heroin.
> 
> I love all you guys for sticking with me and I would love to hear your thoughts!!!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm literally so fucking sorry this took so long!!!!! I literally have no excuse except I haven't been as active in fandom as I was when this first started. But I'm really hoping that there are at least a few people out there who are still interested in this!!! Because I really do love my boys even though it's been 5 months, holy fuck! I'm so sorry!!!!

Jason was like a whirlwind as he rushed through into the kitchen. Roy blinked owlishly as he held his still bleeding finger up in front of him. The wound itself was simply a small, clean cut. It really wasn’t something to be worried about, it was bleeding quite heavily because it was relatively deep but it didn’t need any medical attention. Roy was confident that as soon as they washed the gore away it would appear inconsequential, it didn’t even hurt.

“Where’s the first aid kit?” Jason called out as Roy followed after him.

“Uh, under the sink,” Roy replied as he came to lean in the doorway.

Without offering Roy a glance, Jason nodded and immediately rummaged to find the supplies he needed. He grabbed hold of Roy’s wrist and tugged him over to the dining table before pushing him down into a seat. Carefully, Jason wiped away the blood with an antiseptic wipe before squeezing the area around the cut gently, Roy winced a little but didn’t withdraw his hand. Jason made quick work applying the bandage.

Roy’s brows furrowed as he watched Jason’s methodical actions, the younger boy seemed almost jumpy for some reason, and he hadn’t made eye-contact with Roy once since he’d come through the door. Roy reached a hand over to place it on Jason’s bouncing knee, he tried to give a reassuring smile. Roy couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more going on with his friend.

“Are you okay? You seem kinda keyed-up?” Roy couldn’t help but ask.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jason answered, “Dude, you opened the door covered in blood, you expect me not to be a little frantic?”

Roy thought that _covered_ was definitely an exaggeration, but he let it go. Truthfully, Jason was feeling jumpy. He’d been so upset at the party the previous night that he’d let his emotions get the better of him, he’d barely slept a wink worrying that Roy would remember the kiss and not want to see him, and then he felt even more guilty for having planted one on Roy in the first place. He’d taken advantage of his best friend. Though it had just been a chaste kiss, that didn’t excuse the fact it had been wrong for Jason to have done it, and the fact it would now be Jason’s dirty little secret made him feel a little sick. He’d known that Roy would most likely not remember, but the not knowing for certain had eaten away at him all night, and now being faced with Roy again in the harsh light of day was making him especially anxious.

“How was the rest of your night after?” Jason asked eventually. He didn’t want to draw attention to the party and inadvertently have Roy remember how they’d parted ways, but to not ask would just be suspicious. Perhaps he was overthinking this, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t like having something between the two of them.

Roy gave a self deprecating chuckle, “Oh man, I can’t even remember you leaving, I woke up sick as a dog this morning.”

Jason gave an internal sigh of relief at that. “That’s your own fault, dude. Gotta learn when to quit while you’re ahead.”

“Don’t I know it,” Roy sighed, “Didn’t you say something about presents?”

Jason cracked a smile then and swung his backpack onto his lap. He quickly unzipped the bag and retrieved three parcels, each wrapped with black and white wrapping paper adorned with music notes. The first of which was small and square and soft to the touch, it contained a Led Zeppelin T-shirt. The second was paper thin and was revealed to be a large vinyl sticker, the same Great Frog illustration that had been used to promote Battle of the Bands, “For your drum-kit,” Jason had said. The third was a long, thin, rectangular box. Inside there was a pair of personalized drumsticks, _’R.H’_ was branded onto the handles in a serif script.

“Jay...These are-” Roy broke off, staring down at the gifts between them in awe. They were so _personal_ , so clearly picked out with genuine care. “Thank you,” Roy uttered softly, feeling like the words would never be enough.

“You’re welcome,” Jason said brightly, like it was nothing. “I’m glad you like them.”

Roy cleared his throat and stood, tried to buy himself a few precious moments to collect himself. He still felt a little raw from the morning's emotional whirlwind and Jason’s gifts had done nothing to aid that. He threw away the shreds of wrapping paper and placed the presents in a neat pile in the center of the table. He inclined his head towards the lounge and the two headed there. The games console was set up and a large collection of Roy’s favourite games and movies were stacked haphazardly in the corner.

They were seventeen races deep on London Racer II when they heard the sound of a key turning in the door. Jason’s head snapped up at the sound, causing his car to skid off of the track, but Roy seemed unphased, unmoving like he hadn’t even heard it. “It’s just Dinah,” He murmured in the next second, it took Jason a moment to remember who Dinah was.

Sure enough, a feminine voice called out, announcing her arrival. She came into the room, hauling a large, thin, wrapped parcel and smiled widely. She was beautiful, perhaps early 30s with thick blonde hair and an infectious grin. “Happy birthday!” She enthused, before her eyes fell on Jason and her brows furrowed. “Who’s this?” She asked, not unkindly.

“This is my friend Jason, Bruce Wayne’s ward. Jay, this is Dinah, Ollie’s girlfriend.” Roy introduced as he paused the game and stood to greet the woman.

“Nice to meet you,” Jason’s greeted.

Dinah beamed at him. “Nice to meet you too, honey!” She leaned forward to kiss Roy’s cheek as he approached and passed him the present. Roy quickly rid it of its wrapping to reveal a framed, decorative Rolling Stones vinyl.

“This is awesome, thanks!” Roy stepped away to lay it carefully on the dining table.

Dinah perched herself on the arm of the sofa and looked between the two boys, “What have you guys been up to today?”

Roy re-joined Jason on the carpet, picking up the game controller to wave it in a gesture as he answered Dinah, “Just kickin’ Jay’s ass as usual,” he teased.

Jason scoffed and elbowed Roy in the ribs, Dinah smiled down at them fondly.

Shrugging off her jacket and hanging it on the edge of the door, Dinah turned to head into the kitchen. “You kids hungry? I was thinking of ordering pizza?” She glanced back over her shoulder, awaiting a response.

“Sounds awesome! Stuffed crust, Italian sausage and bell peppers!” Roy said.

“I know, I know,” Dinah waved almost dismissively, as if she had fully expected Roy’s exact reaction. “What about you, Jason?” She asked.

“The same is fine,” he replied easily.

“In that case, I’ll get a large between you and I’ll order garlic bread too.” She reached for the landline on the small corner table. “How about you stay the night, Jason? For Roy’s birthday, I’m sure he’d rather your company than mine?”

Jason pondered the suggestion, and he couldn’t deny that the concept was certainly appealing. He’d love to spend as much time with Roy as possible for his birthday, given the disaster that the previous night had been especially. There was simply the matter of…”I...I’m not sure how Bruce would feel about that…” He trailed off.

“I got you covered! Just give me the number and I’ll talk to your guardian myself, ensure him that his son is in safe and capable hands,” She offered. Jason blinked owlishly, but rattled off the digits he knew by heart.

Dinah rang through to Wayne Manor on the spot, “Hello? Mr.Wayne? My name is Dinah Lance, I’m Oliver Queen’s partner. I’m jus-” The rest of the conversation trailed off as she paced into another room.

“You don’t mind me staying, right?” Jason asked after a second, realizing that Roy hadn’t spoken a word about the change of plans.

“Are you kidding?” Roy snorted, smiling wide and punching at Jason’s shoulder jovially. “It’s an awesome idea. I just didn’t want you to feel pressured about it.”

Jason grinned back before picking up the previously discarded controller. “Rematch?” He inquired, tilting his head towards the TV.

But before Roy could resume the gameplay his phone vibrated. With a quick glance at the screen, Roy snorted, his eyes dancing in amusement.

“What?” Jason murmured, unable to keep the curiosity at bay.

“Just some guy I hooked up with last night. I can barely remember there _being_ a guy, couldn’t tell you his name, but apparently he got my number, ‘cause I don’t know who else this could be,” Roy snorted again.

He turned the phone towards Jason so he could read. The number wasn’t saved and the text simply said: **“Hope you had a fun birthday! I had a great night ;) call me!”**

Jason felt a little sick at the sight of it. After a moment it occurred to Jason that this was the first time Roy had mentioned any interest in boys, and he’d done so so nonchalantly, as if Jason should have already known, like it was commonplace. Jason couldn’t figure out why that bothered him. “You...uh…You never told me you like guys like that…” Jason finally stuttered out, he couldn’t make eye-contact.

In his peripheral he saw Roy grow tense, silently he took the phone back. With his eyes trained on his lap Roy spoke carefully. “Is that a problem?” He asked, his voice soft but serious.

“What? No!” Jason blurted, taken off guard at the implication. “Of course not, you were just so casual about it, like, I don’t know….maybe you thought I already knew?”

“Jay,” Roy chuckled, a fondness returning to his expression as he once again met Jason’s eyes. “You’re my best friend, and this is my life, I’m not ashamed of it, and I’ve never hidden it. Just because I don’t make separate announcements for everyone, that doesn’t mean I’m going to tip-toe around it when it comes up.”

Jason pondered that. It made a lot of sense. People didn’t randomly announce they were straight after all. So, why should it be a topic of discussion until it naturally came up? Jason certainly wasn’t happy about the reminder of Roy’s party conquest, was hesitant to talk more about it in case Roy remembered what happened after, but...still, ever the masochist, he had to know: “Are you gonna call him?” Jason murmured.

Roy scoffed, and smirked at Jay like the idea was ludicrous. Jason almost felt bad for birthday-head-guy, _almost_. “I’m good,” Roy said simply, dismissively. A part of Jason was relieved that Roy wasn’t interested in whoever the mystery boy had been, but another part of him was a little uncomfortable with Roy’s nonchalant, even perhaps uncaring rejection.

“I guess meeting drunk at a college party isn’t the basis for a relationship, huh?” He teased, tried to make light of it.

Roy raised an eyebrow at him, “Jay, as of today, I’m 17. Relationships involve commitment and work and emotional maturity, all of which I do not excel at.”

“You don’t want a relationship? Like, at all?” Jason found the idea a little strange. For him, he couldn’t imagine doing things the way Roy did. Of course, that worked for his friend and that was fine, he could respect that not everyone wants the same things. But, the idea of being with someone in any way other than wholly and lovingly just didn’t sit well with Jason.

Roy sighed deeply and scrubbed a hand down his face, “Look, I’m not opposed to the idea, okay? It’s just….I like sex. I like fun. I don’t have my shit together enough to want to involve someone else in that. Do I think relationships work? In theory. For me? Not really. Not yet. I don’t know, maybe I’ll find a girl or a boy that’ll make me wanna try, but right now….” Roy trailed off.

Jason pondered that. It was hard to think about, it made his chest ache, to have the verbal confirmation that Roy didn’t feel the same, didn’t share his affections. He wasn’t worth trying for.

Dinah returned then, burdened with countless blankets and pillows and sleeping bags. She dumped it all unceremoniously on the floor between and on top of where the boys were sitting. “Alright, you’re all called out. Mr Wayne said to call when you need to be picked up in the morning. The pizza is ordered and should be here within the hour, money’s on the bottom of the stairs, so why don’t you guys camp out down here and enjoy yourselves?”

“Thanks Dinah,” Roy smiled at her gratefully and Jason nodded in agreement.

“Alright, I’m gonna meet some friends for dinner at a local place, I’ll be back later, but I’ll probably head straight on up to bed. You boys be good, okay?” She stepped forward, nearly falling over the heap of blankets, she kissed Roy’s forehead before ruffling his hair affectionately. “If you need anything just call!”

After she left, Jason and Roy spent a few minutes arranging the sleeping bags and pillows to forge a makeshift camp on the lounge floor. They took the larger cushions off of the sofa too, and used them as backrests as they sat upright, swaddled in blankets, side by side. It was quiet for a second, Dinah’s whirlwind appearance and departure had left them at a bit of a loss. “She seems nice,” Jason broke the silence.

“Yeah, she’s great. She actually turned down those dinner plan initially to come and hang with me, she probably decided to take them up on it when she realized you were here. She’s tryna give me us space to be teenagers, tryna do the whole ‘cool mom’ thing, but she’d never leave me sitting here by myself.” Roy spoke softly, before getting up to his knees to crawl towards the games console, he turned it off, instead grabbing the TV remote from the cabinet and sitting back.

Roy scrolled through the movie listings and they settled on a mindless horror flick. Roy loved to tease Jason for his inability to watch them without getting a little freaked out. When the pizza arrived they stuffed themselves silly and just enjoyed each other’s company. Once they’d eaten their fill Roy slid the box onto the bare sofa behind them as Jason licked grease from his fingertips. They ended up falling into each other, using their bodies as pillows as much as the rest of their camp, Jason’s head fell to Roy’s shoulder and Roy’s chin came to rest on Jay’s crown. Roy laughed a little every time Jason jumped, and Jason always elbowed him in retaliation.

“Roy,” Jason mumbled some time later. His eyes were drooping from exhaustion and he was just too warm and comfortable to stay awake much longer.

“Hmm?” Roy replied, murmuring against the younger boy’s temple.

Jason took a deep breath, “Sometimes I think I like boys, too.” It came out like a confession. Even though Jason was still unsure, was just starting to unpack all of his confusing and conflicting feelings, even though he really wasn’t ready to talk about it.

Roy didn’t respond verbally, he simply squeezed Jason’s shoulder gently.

Jason didn’t know when exactly he’d fallen asleep, but he came to screaming. Night terrors weren’t uncommon for him. He’d had them every night without fail when he’d first moved in with Bruce. Every night, the same perverse montage of his life’s cruelest moments laid out to haunt him. Every night his mother’s peaky expression, her nails bitten to the nub, her skin scabbed over, her hair thin. Every night her eyes dead, lifeless, her body pale on the linoleum where he’d found her. The whisper of her voice, the snarl of his father’s aggression that he’d mostly made-up in his child’s imagination because he remembered so little of the man at all. Every night it was the cycle of grief, the plaguing concept of _maybe if i’d found her sooner_. He woke up screaming, yelling himself hoarse and his throat tasted of bile. It had been a long time since he’d had a nightmare, he had been getting better. It was probably the unfamiliar sleeping place that had triggered it.

When he finally became somewhat aware of his surroundings, he heard a voice, muffled as though under water, but slowly as he calmed down, as his pulse stopped thundering in his ears, he could hear Roy murmuring soft words of comfort. The older boy’s arms were locked tight around him, encouraging them in a gentle, swaying motion. Jason took in a haggard breath, the wet rattle in his throat made him realize he’d been sobbing, the salt of tears was stinging as it dried to his face. When his breathing was no longer quite so laboured, Roy pulled back slightly. He cupped Jason’s face in his palms, brought his thumbs up to wipe away his tears with tender caresses.

Roy didn’t know the first thing about Jason’s past. He couldn’t possibly have the faintest clue what this was about, yet he took it in stride. He was like a rock, like a shelter. Jason hadn’t realized how much he’d needed him.

“Shhh,” Roy whispered, tugging Jason into his chest and rocking them both, “It was just a dream, you’re okay,” he promised.

It wasn’t a dream, it was a memory, a defining moment that would follow him forever, never stop hurting. But Jason didn’t correct him, he just hiccuped in another breath and lay there, his face smashed into Roy’s chest and his eyes stinging. If there had ever been any doubt about Jason’s feelings for Roy, it was gone now. How could anyone be handled with such care, treated so precious in Roy’s hands, and not fall in love? But, all he could think was _”maybe I’ll find a girl or a boy that’ll make me wanna try”_ , and another sob bubbled up from his chest and he clutched Roy tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like it! And hopefully there's enough people still hanging around for this to be worth updating again!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys! Sorry this took longer than I wanted it to! I had a really bad weekend (depression was kicking my ass hardcore) so updating this was a welcome and much needed distraction.
> 
> Quick question for you guys (no guarantee that the response will effect what I ultimately decide to write but I want opinions): i have figured out how this will end, i'm trying to hash out some final details so, should Jason find out about Roy's addiction before or after he tells Roy about the loss of his mother?

After years spent on the streets, it was an inevitability that Jason had become an incredibly light sleeper. It was a necessary part of survival during his childhood, and now it was instinctive to rouse at the slightest of movements, at the faintest of sounds. He blinked awake as he heard the creak of floorboards overhead. It took him a moment to recollect himself, and the following night's events came back to him.

Realizing that it was Dinah who was moving around upstairs, and he was still curled up under multiple blankets on the lounge floor in the Queen household, Jason relaxed. It was in the next second that he tensed again, remembering his night terror and the comfort that Roy had offered without hesitance. Roy’s arm was still around his middle, a warm band, secure and safe. Jason suddenly felt embarrassed, a part of him wanting to relish in the embrace and another part of him wanting to distance himself from what had happened during the night, and dismiss all reminders.

The arm around him tightened slightly, Roy stirring from sleep just enough to pick up on Jay’s tension. He breathed heavily as he buried his nose more securely in the nape of Jason’s neck.

“Go back to sleep,” Roy mumbled, not even half awake. He placed a kiss to the back of Jason’s neck, soft and barely there, just a pucker of his lips where they had already been resting. Jason froze, wondering if Roy had even realized what he’d done. “ ‘s too early,” he slurred.

Jason couldn’t breathe, was so filled with tension over the awkwardness he knew was coming. It was unavoidable. Slowly, as the seconds ticked by, Roy began to truly awaken, blinking away the last remnants of sleep and realizing where he was for the first time. The arm that was wrapped around Jason was withdrawn abruptly, and though Jay had been expecting it, was even thankful for it, he still missed its warm security when it was gone.

Roy scrubbed a hand through his bed-head, making it even worse. He looked adorably rumpled, not that Jason thought for a second that Roy would ever let _anyone_ get away with calling him adorable. With a sigh Roy glanced up at Jason, and then back down at the blanket that was still pooled in their laps. “What was that last night?”

Jason closed his eyes, cursing up a blue streak in his head, he wracked his brain to find a way out of this. He’d been hoping against hope that Roy would just let it go. “Nothing,” he mumbled.

Roy scoffed, “Bull _shit_.”

Something inside Jason jerked alive at that. _Yes_ , it might have been ‘bullshit’, but he was on the defensive and did _not_ take kindly to Roy ambushing him about this without giving him the chance to even wake up. “Ex _cuse_ me?” Jason bit out scathingly, a warning in every line of his posture.

Roy sighed again, his eyes growing tender. “Listen, you don’t have to lie to me, Jason. Whatever that _was_ , it wasn’t nothing.”

But it was too late now to placate. A spark had been ignited. Roy knew that Jason had a temper, had seen it enough times in the beginning, when Jay had been nothing but his tutor, impatient with his antics. Even though he was aware of Jason’s capacity for anger, had witnessed it simmer under the surface, shown in the clench of his fists or the tick of his jaw, Roy had thought that he wouldn’t ever truly be victim to it. Even still, he should have known better than to push, Jason didn’t like to share any details of himself. “How would you know?” Jason asked, like a challenge.

“Whether you want me to or not, I know you, Jason,” Roy said softly.

“You don’t know anything.” Jason stated, his voice flat, final.

Growing quickly impatient with the cold detachment, thrown for a loop by it because - even in the early days - Jason had never shut him out like this, Roy couldn’t keep it back when he snapped “Because you won’t tell me!”

Jason just stared, unwavering. And somehow that was worse, like he didn’t deem Roy worthy of a reaction. Roy sighed. He pinched two fingers around the bridge of his nose, trying to contain his frustration. “I think I’ve earned a little trust here, Jay.”

Jason’s eyed blazed, nostrils flared. He had been nothing but the model best friend, he had provided comfort whenever Roy had needed it, he’d lent an ear whenever necessary and had never pushed for anything that wasn’t readily and willingly given. It was offensive of Roy to assume he was entitled to _anything_ from him when he’d never once asked Roy for a single thing himself.

“I didn’t realize this was a competition, Harper,” he hissed, “I don’t owe you anything.”

“What?” Roy’s brow quirked, thrown off again by Jason’s reaction. “Of course you don’t, that’s _not what I meant_.”

Jason, deep down, knew that Roy’s intentions were pure, that his heart was in the right place. But, he wasn’t ready for Roy to know, and he’d rather push Roy away - lose him on his own terms - that to have Roy willingly leave him when he found out the truth. Roy had suspected for a while, but now it was almost confirmed that whatever Jason had been through, whoever he had been before living with Bruce, had severely messed him up. He was at a loss, completely unequipped to navigate this.

Jason snorted, “I gotta go.”

“What? No,” Roy sputtered, “Jay, c’mon, don’t be mad at me, please. I won’t bring it up again, I promise.”

Jason didn’t know if that vow made him feel better or worse. The obvious break, the upset in Roy’s voice tugged at his heart. But he felt smothered, needed to get out before he really said something he didn’t mean, couldn’t take back. He had gone to a therapist during his first few months with Bruce, barely spoke to his father figure about his childhood, he avoided speaking of what happened as much as possible. He couldn’t bare the idea that Roy might look at him differently. He grabbed his things and headed out the door, firing off a quick text to Alfred to let him know that he’d start walking, and to pick him up on the way.

* * *

 

Roy didn’t try to follow him, and even though he knew that they would have simply continued to argue - would most likely have done more harm than good in the end - a part of him was still upset that the other boy hadn’t come after him. His mood did not go unnoticed by Alfred, and when they got back to the manor, Jason headed straight for his room without so much as a greeting for his guardian. Bruce watched after him for a moment before looking over to Alfred, who gave a helpless shrug.

With a sigh and a roll of his shoulders, Bruce ascended the stairs. He found Jason curled up on his bed, facing away from the door. Cautiously, he stepped into the room to take a seat at the foot of the double bed, and glanced down at his son, who didn’t look up. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked plainly.

When the young boy merely shrugged, Bruce tried again. “What happened, Jason?”

“I had the nightmare,” he mumbled, fiddling with a loose thread on the bed cover.

The night terror had been frequent when Bruce had first taken Jason in, and he was prepared now when confronted with it. It had been a while since it had occurred. “Why didn’t you call? You know I would’ve come to get you, no matter what time.”

Jason finally peered up at Bruce and met his eyes. “I didn’t need you,” he said gently. It wasn’t a dig, it was simply honest, almost wonderous, like he had never expected to be able to say those words.

“So, what changed?”

Jason nibbled at his bottom lip anxiously. “Roy started asking questions this morning. I got angry because I didn’t wanna talk and he wouldn’t let it go. I think I scared him.”

“Jason, you don’t have to tell anyone anything that you don’t want to,” Bruce intoned softly.

“I know that, but I just wanted him to stop talking. I was really rude, unfair.” Jason sighed and his breath hitched a little. “What if he doesn’t want to talk to me anymore?” He whimpered.

“I doubt that. You two are close, this doesn’t change that. Give him a little credit.” Bruce said.

Jason rolled his eyes a little, “Oh, please. You think Roy is a bad influence.”

“Actually, I think he’s been quite good for you,” Bruce smiled and reached out to run his hands soothingly through his son’s hair, “I’m proud of you, Jason.”

When it was clear that Jason wasn’t going to respond, Bruce stood and left the room. Jason was clearly struggling with the morning’s events, and the difficult memories that had been conjured. He needed time to think and to rest. Hopefully, Roy would still be there when he was done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love every comment I get and i adore everyone who has read this and been so patient between updates. I'm sorry that i don't tend to reply to comments, i'm not really on ao3 unless i'm actively updating fic. And i feel bad if i reply to one comment but not others even though there may be a few I dont know how to respond to. So, if anyone wants to talk to me directly or has questions PLEASE hmu on tumblr (oathkeptroxas). Thank you so much for the support!!!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys!!! I'm SO CLOSE to 100 comments and nearly at 300 kudos. That's incredible! Thank you all so much! I'm so proud of this fic and it warms my heart to know that people are enjoying it. So, here you go! Second update in one week!!!
> 
> I got this finished and posted because not only am I so thankful for all the support, but I finished watching the D23 livestream and the KH3 trailer has me so hyped and in such a good mood with so much energy that I just HAD to do something. I love and appreciate every single one of you guys!

The click of the door closing sounded eerily final, ringing in Roy’s ears as he stayed rooted in place. His fingers were twisting and untwisting into the fabric of the blanket as he contemplated how things had managed to go so wrong so fast. One moment he’s holding Jason in his arms and wondering how something he’d never had before had felt like something being returned to him, coming back to where it belonged, and the next second they were spitting and hissing at each other until he’d chased his friend away. Roy never did learn how to leave well enough alone. Everyone always left him in the end.

God, replaying the fight, thinking back on the previous night's events and how terrified he’d been to be awakened by Jason’s screaming, Roy’s hands started to shake. He really needed a fix. He closed his eyes against the thought, clenched his hands into fists to stop the quaking. It was becoming so much harder to think of this as purely a social habit. Some nights he’d lie awake and contemplate his own existence, and only then, in the still, would he allow the word _addiction_ to flit through his mind. He never let it stay long, never let it linger long enough to really equate the word with his own circumstance. Denial was a bitch like that.

Some time later, Dinah came downstairs, she smiled over at Roy but it fell when she noticed he was alone. “Where’s Jason?”

Roy cleared his throat, tried to keep his voice steady. “He left.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” she murmured and she genuinely sounded disappointed. “I was gonna make waffles.”

Roy couldn’t help but snort, “Since when do you play hostess?” He quipped.

“Since my boy decided to bring someone home,” She teased, winking at him, “You do realize you’ve never brought anyone over, right? I gotta make a good impression.”

The implication was clear in the sly edge to her grin, the sparkle in her eyes. Roy felt himself flush. He wasn’t used to feeling embarrassed, especially not around Dinah. He’d had no problem talking to her about anyone he may have been interested in, she was the first person he told about being bisexual, being bi herself, Roy felt a lot more comfortable going to her for advice and support.

“It’s, um...We...uh,” Roy coughed a little, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, “It’s not like that. Me and Jason. We’re not….” He trailed off.

“Really?” She asked, eyebrow cocked. Roy just shrugged. “Nothing in those little looks between you two?” She pressed.

“Nope,” Roy confirmed, popping the “P” for emphasis.

“Say what you want, Roy. You can’t fool me.”

“No, really. We’re not a thing. We’re friends.” Roy insisted, his voice soft, almost sad.

“Ah,” Dinah began, like everything suddenly made sense to her, “But you want more, right?”

Roy sighed, gazing intently into his lap. “I don’t know if I’m ready for more, I don’t…..I didn’t stand a chance anyway, and after what happened this morning….”

“What happened this morning?” Dinah asked hesitantly, she came forward to perched on the arm of the sofa behind Roy’s head. She ran a hand through his hair in a soothing gesture.

“We...we had a fight,” As embarrassing as it was, Roy could feel his eyes burn, he didn’t know why this was hurting so much. “I pushed him. There’s…...there’s a lot of stuff I don’t know, about his life, and I just wanted to understand,” Roy sniffled, the tears becoming harder to suppress.

“Roy, honey, what did you say to each other?” Her voice was whisper soft, a part of her was frightened, unaccustomed to seeing Roy so open and vulnerable.

“He had a nightmare last night, it was awful, D.” Roy began, blinking up at her, “He was screaming and flailing and I didn’t know what to do, he wouldn’t wake up. I just, I got his arms pinned to his sides so he couldn’t hurt himself, and then….then I just….held him. I held him until he calmed down.”

Dinah smiled down at him, pride in her face and genuine concern in her eyes, “Was he okay?”

“Yeah, he was fine, woke up a little and cried and then went back to sleep, but...this morning I started asking him about it, pressing him when I knew I shouldn’t but I was scared, y’know?” Roy sucked in a breath, hating himself for putting so much onto Jason after what had happened.

Dinah sighed, not knowing how best to comfort. “Roy, Jason will tell you when - and if - he’s ready. You gotta have a little faith. So, when you see him at school tomorrow, you tell him you’re sorry, and that you were just panicked, and that he doesn’t have to tell you anything he doesn’t want to. That’s it. It’ll be fine, trust me.”

It was in that moment that the truth real crystallized for Roy. Of course he was worried for Jason, terrified by what had happened last night and what may have happened in Jay’s past to cause such a violent reaction, but the real kicker was the proof of how much was still unsaid between them. He had no right to be upset over whatever Jason hadn’t told him. After all, he was keeping secrets himself, life-threatening ones.

He was suddenly painfully aware of the track marks in his arms, that was a new development, over the last few weeks they’d resorted to injecting on occasion. It scared him. Every time he saw a needle it struck him that he was in too deep, but then he thought about the high, the fix he needed, the reprieve from everything wrong in his life, and in the moment it seemed worth it. Rinse and repeat, every time the needle was drawn, over and over. He never meant for it to get this far. But there was nothing to be done about it, he needed it, no one would understand, and no one would care enough to help regardless. He had always been more trouble than he was worth.

Even though he was wearing a long-sleeved hoodie - he never had his arms bare - he still refused to look down at the crease of his elbow, not wanting to draw attention to it even though he knew Dinah wouldn’t see anything. With a shaky sigh he stood up and tried to aim a smile Dinah’s way. He’d had no right to push Jason the way he had, especially with how hypocritical that made him with all the secrets he was keeping. He’d apologize at school, and hopefully Jason would know that he’d reacted impulsively, motivated by love for him.

“So, do I still get waffles even though there’s no one you need to impress?” He quipped, effectively changing the subject.

Dinah rolled her eyes but gave him a fond grin, “Alright fine, because it’s your birthday weekend.”

“You’re the best, D!” He called after her as she sauntered into the kitchen.

Despite the disastrous start to the day, Roy found himself enjoying Dinah’s company. He laughed and ate until he felt sick. His brightened mood left him with a growing confidence that everything was going to be okay. He believed in the friendship that he and Jason had, trusted Jay to know that he’d meant no harm. There had never been any malicious intent, simply heartfelt concern. Who could stay mad about something like that?

The next day dawned bright and early, Roy was eager to get to school, impatient to rectify things with his friend. He got ready in record time and headed out, he walked around the side of the school building, out of the sight of the street, where he and Jason always met to have their morning smoke. The space was vacant when Roy arrived, but he was determined to not let that dissuade his belief that Jason would forgive him. Jason’s absence was most likely not an indicator of his feelings.

Just as Roy was running out of blind hope that Jay would show, the other boy turned the corner. He looked dishevelled, his hair all amiss and his eyes bleary, like he’d just woken up. Roy couldn’t get over how endearing that was, how much smaller and more vulnerable Jay appeared when he was sleepy. Jason had grown an inch or two in the time they’d known each other, still noticeably shorter than Roy was, and Roy thought it unlikely that that would change, but the other boy’s growth spurt had certainly not gone unnoticed, Roy had always thought Jason was unusually small for a boy his age, it was inevitable he would start to catch up a little.

Roy could only put off the coming conversation for so long - and could only openly stare at the other boy for so long before it got weird - so he cleared his throat. Jason leant against the wall beside him, reaching for his cigarettes. Jason didn’t greet him, didn’t extend an olive branch, not that he had to, but the lack of a single word between them was making Roy anxious.

“Jay, I am so sorry for yesterday, I never-” Roy began, but Jason raised a hand to halt him.

“It’s fine. I get it. No big deal.” Jason stated, not unkindly, but making it abundantly clear that he didn’t want to broach the topic.

“Just….please just let me get this out, and then we never have to talk about it again if you don’t want to,” Roy begged, desperate to say his piece and have Jason know without a shadow of a doubt that he’d never, ever want to hurt him.

Jason sighed and took a long drag of his cigarette. He squeezed his eyes shut as smoke swirled between them. “Fine, let’s hear it.”

“I shouldn’t have pushed like that. It was insensitive. It was selfish of me to expect information that you didn’t want to give. I was just worried, said a lot of shit I shouldn’t have. I just….I really care about you, Jason. I got scared because seeing you hurting made me feel helpless, made me hurt too.” Roy murmured, unaccustomed to being so candid with his feelings, but seeming to sense that direct and uncut was the best approach.

Jason’s eyes flew up to Roy at his confession. He knew in some abstract way that he meant something to his friend, they’d grown very close. But, to have the verbal confirmation, and have it said with such soft sincerity brought a comfort that Jason hadn’t known he’d needed, and he found himself basking in it. It may not have been the grand, all-encompassing fondness that he felt for Roy, but he’d never expected that to be returned in kind. This was more than he thought he’d ever hear, and it was enough. “Thank you,” He said.

Roy reached a hand out, lay it on Jason’s shoulder and squeezed. He smiled and his eyes sparkled, he looked grateful and relieved, and Jason wanted so badly to kiss him. He ached with it. Throwing his nearly finished cigarette to the ground, Jason took a deep breath and gathered up the courage to step up to Roy’s side. He shouldered his way under Roy’s arm and embraced him in a side hug that was a little closer than necessary. He wrapped his arms around Roy’s waist and linked the fingers of his hands to hold on tight. “Thank you,” he said again.

Roy leant down a little, his temple resting atop Jason’s crown. He sighed into Jason’s hair softly and closed his eyes for just a moment. Nobody needed to know how much he relished the closeness, how much he feared it being taken away. As time was passing, as his feelings for the other boy were growing and his vice was becoming more of a problem, Roy knew with sickening clarity that it was only a matter of time before Jason found out somehow, and left him in the gutter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget, you're more than welcome to reach out to me on tumblr (oathkeptroxas)


	24. Chapter 24

The tension between them dissipated instantly. The warmth and comfort that they’d drawn from each other had allowed them to breach another boundary, get that much closer. Things were so easy between them that Roy didn’t even think to question the whys and hows. He just knew that he’d never felt more himself, more secure in his existence, than when Jason was beside him.

The school day began and they didn’t see each other until lunch, but just as Roy’s class was letting out he was called to the principal's office. A part of him was wary, frantically searching back through the previous weeks events for what trouble he may have conjured, but he was drawing a blank. Another part of him had been to the office so many times that it now felt like an irritating inconvenience, a roadblock on his way to lunch. Roy fired off a quick text to Jason to grab him some food, the lines would be manic by the time he got to the cafeteria now, and he’d have barely anytime to eat by the time he got served. After making sure the message had sent, he pocketed his phone and knocked firmly on the office door.

“Come in,” Mr. Wilson’s voice commanded barely a second later.

With a deep breath Roy pushed open the door and stepped inside, taking a seat immediately as the head teacher gestured to do so. Mr. Wilson stood, the chair protested under the motion as he moved to stand behind it, and folded his arms atop it’s back. He regarded Roy intensely for a short moment, and Roy struggled to retain eye contact.

“Mr. Harper, do you know why I’ve called you here?” The man asked.

“Uh….actually, no, sir.” Roy answered.

“I suppose there’s a first time for everything,” Mr.Wilson began, before rummaging through the desk drawers and pushing a sheet of paper towards Roy. Roy reached forward to take it, but couldn’t seem to absorb the multitude of numbers and documented information. “Those are your recent test scores and the adjustment in how your teachers feel your upcoming grades will improve. You are no longer required to receive tutoring, but keep in mind that if you begin to slip, the issue will be re-addressed more severely.”

Roy could only blink owlishly for a second or two, his hand shaking as he placed the paper back onto the desktop. He stood from his seat and nodded his understanding to the principal. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Mr. Wilson nodded back, gesturing to their door in a motion of dismissal. Roy was out of there in the next second. Only a few weeks earlier and this revelation may have made Roy anxious, uncertain about his stance with Jason, worried he was simply an obligation. But, if the weekend had taught him anything, it was that he and Jason’s relationship had obviously grown far past that of a tutor and his pupil. With the security in their bond that he now had, Roy could bask in pride at his accomplishment. He and Jay needed to celebrate.

He arrived at the cafeteria and reached for the sandwich Jason had picked up for him - BBQ chicken with cheese, his favourite. He smiled in thanks before eagerly sharing the news of his improved grades, and the end of mandatory tutoring.

“I know, Mr.Wilson called for me this morning, he’s going to write me a glowing recommendation.” Jason beamed around the last few bites of his lunch.

Roy chuckled, “Thanks for letting me know,” he winked to show it didn’t bother him. Jason had probably wanted Roy to get the news directly from the principal.

Jason reached into his backpack and retrieved a tupperware container of Alfred’s brownies, he popped the lid and the chocolatey aroma wafted across the table, causing Roy’s mouth to water. Jason took a square for himself before nudging the box towards Roy, who finished his sandwich in record time in order to get his hands on a treat.

He moaned appreciatively as he bit into the sticky chocolate center and messily wiped at the residue around his lips, “Marry me,” he nearly crooned as he finished the brownie.

They stopped for a second, silent, their eyes wide with wonder, as they both realized what he’d actually said. In the next moment, Jason gave out a laugh that sounded a little hysterical. “Never pegged you for being easy,” he quipped.

Roy scoffed. “Bite me,” he retorted.

And for a second, Jason considered how much he really kinda wanted to. That was a new development for him, the attraction that he felt for Roy. Whenever he had allowed himself to daydream about any kind of potential future, whenever romance had crept up, he’d always imagined himself settling down with another boy. But it had never been a physical thing, never inherently sexual. But the way he felt about Roy transcended any form of attraction he’d experienced before, the trust and compassion between them, the way he looked at Roy like the sun would only rise if he said so, he wanted everything with Roy. He wanted Roy in every way imaginable, and he’d take him any way he was allowed.

“I don’t want this to sound condescending, but, I’m really proud of you. You’ve worked really hard. Mr. Wilson told me your progress and just….you should be proud.” Jason said as the began packing up their things for their afternoon class.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” Roy said softly, but his grin was grateful.

Jason snorted indelicately, “Doubtful. Your capability was never the problem, Roy. Your priorities just suck.” He teased, but the words rang true.

“Don’t I know it,” Roy quipped back, but it struck him just how much of a detriment to himself he really was.

There was a text message on his phone that he had yet to reply to, it had come through in the early hours of the morning, an invitation from Chucky and a promise of ‘the good stuff’. Roy could feel the need like it was a physical thing, an itch under the skin, a restlessness. Sometimes he’d catch his hands trembling, his mind wandering, his stomach cramping with a nauseous anxiety. He needed it.

He felt more and more these days like he was being split in two. Now, sat opposite Jason, the younger boy beaming with pride, Roy could feel his phone burning a hole in his pocket. He knew he’d reply, and he knew he’d accept the invitation. It was one thing to acknowledge the toxicity of his situation to himself, and quite another to actively do something about it. He thought about the hesitance, the fear that had gripped him the first time a needle had been drawn, just like the first time all over again. This was just another line he never should’ve crossed.

Even that wasn’t enough to get him to stop. Music had been his reprieve, drumming had been his interest. But, this hadn’t been about the band in a long time. He couldn’t even really call his bandmates his friends. They didn’t know him like Jason did. They didn’t really care for each other. It’s true what they say about addicts. They’ll do anything for their next hit. Roy knew with everything in him that each of his bandmates would choose the junk over him. He knew that truth intimately because no matter how much it pained him to think about, no matter how much he hated himself for the thought, he knew he would choose the junk over Jason. He needed it. Jason deserved better. Jason couldn’t give him what he needed.

This had become a double life. There were two very real, yet very different versions of him walking around in the world. There was the boy Jason knew, the boy he could be, the boy he _should_ be. The boy that Oliver thought he was. The boy that Dinah saw in him. Then, there was the other him, the drummer, the fuck-up, the junkie. He wished so desperately that his life hadn’t taken this turn. He wished he could be with Jason without having to fake-it, without living in denial over his situation and then hopelessness over it never changing in the moments he did allow himself the clarity.

He couldn’t cope with the weight of this anymore. He couldn’t deal with the suspense that only ever led to the inevitable. So he retrieved his phone and sent Chuck a simple text: _‘wouldn’t miss it’._ He looked over at Jason’s smiling face and felt the bile of self hatred burning in the back of his throat. It was like quicksand, the more he struggled, the more he tried to get away, the faster he went under.

The bell sounded, signalling the end of lunch. Roy was reluctant for this moment to end. He never wanted Jason to stop smiling at him. He wished he couldn’t think of a million reasons why Jason should be anything other than proud. As they stood and collected their things, Roy couldn’t help but grip Jay’s sleeve and tug him forward. He enveloped him in an embrace and rested his chin on Jason’s hair. “I really couldn’t have done it without you,” he whispered.

That Friday night was no band practise. Though their music had taken a backseat in recent weeks, they usually at least put up the pretense that their getting together was band oriented. But, this time saw them in the upstairs apartment of a dive bar. The bartender was a friend of a friend of a friend and invited them in, the place was vacant and the space was now housing a party of people in similar ages and situations to theirs. It started pretty tame, kegs of beer brought up from the cellar, spliffs passed around and games of spin the bottle and strip poker. The band mingled, never sticking too close to each other. Roy had lost count of time, and after a particularly potent trip he came back to himself, sprawled across a lumpy, threadbare couch, surrounded by people he had no memory of ever laying eyes on. His head was full of white noise and a bone deep ache. His stomach was rolling so badly he feared if he moved too fast he’d hurl.

God, he wanted to go home. God, he kinda wanted another fix, another hit would make this nauseous feeling go away. If he was still high then he wouldn’t have to deal with the nagging sensation fizzing in his chest. Where the fuck was Chuckie?

Staggering to his feet, Roy scoured the room, still unable to pinpoint a familiar face. He stumbled forward, bracing himself on the wall as he made his way from one room to another. Everything was swaying, and the music - though he was sure it was blasting - seemed far away. Three rooms and not a single bandmate in sight so far. He looked up and spotted a door closed tight at the end of the hall, away from the remaining party-goers. Suddenly lying down in the dark for a while seemed heavenly.

Roy pushed the door open, and it creaked under the motion. He saw a silhouette on the bed, a motionless lump that was barely visible in the dim light of the moon through the blinds. Absently, he flicked on the light after closing the door behind him. He stilled. Every part of his body locked up tight, every nerve froze, his blood ran cold. He’d recognize that hair anywhere, greasy and sandy and to the shoulders. He catalogued the hand that lay limp over the edge of the mattress, the needle on the carpet below. Without making the conscious decision to move Roy shot into the adjoining bathroom, where he promptly lost his stomach contents, splattering over the porcelain bowl, splashing up the tiled wall. He heaved and panted and coughed up bile, then he screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wish i was talented enough to provide art for this, but sadly i am not. also, as always, PLEASE heed all tags as warnings before reading. thank you.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ!!
> 
> 1) I had initially planned to have this end at a different point, but this kinda got away from me as i was typing and I wanted to get something posted for you guys, and i don't think i would've been able to if i'd carried on to my originally planned end for this chapter.
> 
> 2) I'm sorry for the delays, i've been very anxious about the fact this fic is rapidly nearing it's end and I'm really hoping I can do the story justice to the last word, and i'm overwhelmed by the response i've received and want to do my best to give you guys a satisfactory ending
> 
> 3) i've been seriously considering opening up requests on my tumblr, and maybe turning this into a verse, where people can suggest 'deleted scenes' of things not shown in the fic that they'd like to see written. However, i'll only do this if you guys want it, and after this fic has been completed. please let me know what you think!
> 
> As ever, heed all tags as warnings!!

_"It's been a long, long year_

_with not too many good days."_

**'Get in the Car' - Black Canary.**

* * *

 

 

Everything happened too fast after that. Roy must have screamed himself hoarse if the scratchy taste of blood in his throat was anything to go by. Suddenly the room was full of people, there was more screaming. Teenagers were high-tailing it out of the apartment left and right, their eyes wide with panic. Their self-preservation and need to distance themselves from the situation, to eliminate the possibility of getting caught, was far more potent than any compassion they might have felt for the life that had been lost.

The landlord came barreling in, started yelling about clearing the place out. It all felt so distant. Roy was sat on the tiles, rocking slightly, trembling under the onslaught of what happened. His eyes were clenched closed as a continuous, silent mantra of   _'no, no, no_ ' fell from his numb lips.

He felt arms grip his shoulders and he jolted in panic. He could see the man trying to speak to him, but he couldn’t hear anything over the buzzing in his head. He was gasping but couldn’t seem to draw in breath. All Roy could see was the belt tight around Chuck’s arm, the glassy, empty look in his eyes, the bile-like substance that had frothed from his mouth...the needle on the carpet.

“Snap out of it, kid!” The bar owner yelled, “You gotta _breathe_!”

But, it was no use. Roy was spiraling, unfocused and overwhelmed, and despite all of it there was a small part of him that wanted a fix. He knew that another hit would numb him, distract away from all the things he couldn’t deal with. The pain would ebb. He didn’t know if the cramps rolling through him were from nausea at the situation, or just the latest wave of a come-down. He didn’t think it really mattered anymore.

At a loss for what else to do, the man struck Roy, slapped him none too gently across the face and shook him until finally,  _finally_ , his eyes came back into focus. Roy blinked owlishly, his breaths were still choppy. The man tried to give him an encouraging smile, but it faltered, quickly becoming a grimace. Roy took a deep breath, and only when it hitched in his throat did he realize he’d been sobbing, his eyes welling up once again when the reality of the situation came back to him. He peered around himself, he was sat on the grimey bathroom floor, the tiles splattered with his vomit.

The man took a step back and helped Roy stand. “You gotta get outta here, kid. It’s not gonna be good for any of us, if any of you are spotted around here. Especially after this.”

“W- ,” Roy faltered a little, “What’re you gonna do with him?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Nothing,” The man sighed, scrubbed a hand down his face in regret. “You gotta understand, kid. I need this bar, I’ve got a family to feed. I didn’t know this stuff was going on, ya hear? Sure, I let you kids hang out. The bands bring in a lot of profit. So what if I don’t look too closely at some fake IDs?” The man shook his head, “But drugs? No. That’s nothing to do with me. I don’t know where you kids get that stuff, but I can’t lose my entire livelihood because some scumbag thinks it’s okay to sell to kids.”

Roy swallowed hard, could still feel the prick of tears in the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation with Chuck’s body just feet away. “What now?”

“I’mma clean this place up, then I’m gonna bust in the back door. I’ll call the police an’ say I was locking up the bar for the night and noticed someone must have broken in. I found ‘im like that.”

It all sounded so reasonable. In this part of town a break in and a teen junkie would hardly surprise anyone. The drugs had clearly been taken as recreational. There would be no need for further inquiry. But, even so, Roy would know the truth. He feared the weight of it might crush him.

“Was he your friend?” The man asked after a stilted silence.

Roy thought about how he’d doubted that. He remembered how he’d been convinced that their friendship wasn’t genuine, and was built on a mutual dependence for heroin and music, in that order. His eyes filled with tears once more. “ _Yeah,_ ” He croaked, “Yeah, he was.”

The man’s face fell, he looked full of regret and sorrow. “I’m sorry, kid.”

 _Yeah_ , Roy thought, _I'm sorry, too_.

Usually, he would be affronted by someone calling him kid. But, right now, he felt like one. He felt small and frail, vulnerable in a way that he never allowed himself to feel. He thought of campfires, and dense trees, he thought about large boulders that soaked up the warmth of the sun all day, heat that leached out into his skin in the evening as he laid upon them. He thought about the constellations he would trace as he pointed up at the night sky. He thought about the stories Brave Bow would tell him, Navajo legends from generations before, that would always sooth him when he awoke from nightmares of raging fires and thick smoke.

“I wanna go home,” He found himself sobbing out. And the man looked at him as if he were a frightened child, and now more than ever, Roy realized that that’s exactly what he was.

“C’mon, kid. We’ll call you a cab, okay?”

When Roy finally made it back to the Queen estate in the early hours of the morning, he stripped out of all of his clothing, and put it all straight into the trash. He wanted to purge this night completely. He sat in the tub, the shower blasted hot and heavy down on him as he scrubbed at every inch of his skin, but he still didn’t feel clean.

He spent hours staring blankly at the walls, the dawn broke on the horizon and the world lightened around him, and still he felt lost, like no time had passed at all. Eventually, his phone chimed, signalling a text message. He anticipated a text from one of the other band members, they’d cut their losses and fled when the shit hit the fan. Perhaps Roy would’ve liked some confirmation that they felt some sort of concern for Roy, and for what happened to Chucky. But, Chucky had been the linchpin, the ringleader of their ragtag group. They were never really friends. Roy couldn’t even find it within himself to be disappointed, after all, he’d expected nothing else.

No, the message he received had been a standard good morning text from Jason. Roy couldn't exactly recall when those had started up, but he’d certainly grown to appreciate them. It was almost like Jason needed to greet Roy before he did anything else with his day, like the whole day would be a little off-kilter if he hadn’t reached out to Roy first, or at least, that was a notion that Roy clung to, in order to make himself feel a little better.

Now however, the message made him queasy, the smiley face mocked him. Roy closed his eyes against it, couldn’t bare the normalcy of it. To Jason, Roy was one version of himself, but to the band, he was another. In recent weeks Roy had been struggling, torn in half with the realization that it wasn’t possible to meld the two. He wasn’t sure if either one was truly a reflection of who he actually was anymore, but rather facades he upheld to make things easier. But, he wasn’t the Roy that Jason was looking for right now. He didn’t respond.

The day passed dismally, Roy felt like he was on autopilot, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings that made little sense and just made him feel worse the longer time wore on. He laid out on the lawn for a long while. He stared up at the clouds, the smog of the city hardly ever left the sky bare, and it was hard for Roy to imagine he was anywhere else, though he tried. The sleepless night and the stress of everything he’d endured had taken their toll on him. He woke up hours later, darkness had long since fallen and the stars were peeping out beyond a veil of thick fog. He missed the wide expanse of the clear night sky. As a child, his problems had always seemed so small in the face of its vastness, but in this place, he didn’t even have the sky for comfort.

His stomach rumbled loudly, and though he hadn’t had an appetite all day - couldn’t even think of eating anything after what he’d witnessed - his body was demanding food. As he waited for the toaster to pop, he checked his phone. There was a single text from Jason, sent a few hours after his morning text had been ignored.

 **[text: Jason]:** Roy?? Are you okay? :(

No...he wasn’t. He doubted he ever would be again. He pocketed the phone without bothering to reply. Though it didn’t surprise him at all, Roy found himself angry that none of the guys had checked in. They may not be friends in the way that he and Jay were, but the one thing that had brought them together had now blown them apart, and Roy felt like a fool, because he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if any of them had been the one to find the body, he would’ve stayed. He would’ve done anything he could to help, he would have at least had the decency to send a concerned text message.

The worst part of it all though, was the itch under his skin, the thrumming need for another hit. For years he’d distracted himself, drowned his sorrows and numbed his senses with one vice after another. Like anything, it evolved with time. It had started with the adrenaline of performing, the slight alcohol buzz and the cigarettes he used to calm his nerves before a gig. It snowballed from there, from weed to coke to heroin. It could’ve just as easily been him on that bed, but still he needed it. The headaches, the nausea, the cramping, the fatigue, he didn’t know what to contribute to withdrawal and what was simply a side-effect of the trauma, of his grief. He just knew he didn’t want to feel any of it. He didn’t want to feel anything at all.

That night he stood in the bathroom mirror, took note of the dark rings beneath his eyes, the sallow tinge of his complexion, the smattering of freckles that gave him that boyish look that somehow made this whole thing worse. Clad in only his underwear, he could see how scrawny he was, how sunken in his body looked. Outsiders would contribute his lanky appearance to puberty perhaps. They’d never assume the truth, it was outlandish. Roy was destroying himself.

The track marks in the crooks of his elbows had bile building in his throat. He always refused to look at them, never let his eyes linger. He always wore long sleeves. He’d even started injecting between his toes sometimes so that he didn’t have to look at the marks afterwards. But, he forced himself to look now. He needed to confront what he’d done. Without conscious thought he reached for the wash rag, and ran the water until it was warm. He began to scrub at his skin, his eyes grew wet and he began to try harder, wiping almost violently at his arms, as if they were stubborn stains that would come out if only he put enough elbow grease into it.

“Get off, get off, get _off_ ,” he muttered. He grit his teeth and his eyes spilled over, heedless of the fact the scabs had cracked and reopened. He scrubbed his skin raw. Eventually, his panting breaths died down, and gave way to hiccuping sobs. He dropped the cloth into the sink, trembled as blood began to bead in the bend of his arm.

                                                                                           

* * *

 

After not hearing from Roy at all over the weekend, Jason was anxious to get to school. He tried to remain optimistic. Roy might have just had a busy weekend partying with the band, he might’ve lost his phone or damaged it. That really wouldn’t be a surprising scenario. The less time that Jason spent pondering Roy’s weekend activities and the guys and/or girls that had shared his company, the better for his sanity. So, he refused to dwell on it. Everything would be fine as soon as he got to school.

Bright and early Monday morning Jason sent the standard good morning text. It was ritual now. Roy was more often than not the first thing he thought of upon waking, their morning exchanges meant a lot to him. Receiving no response from Roy had hurt, but he was trying to be rational. He wasn’t going to get worked up about something so minor when there were a dozen entirely plausible explanations for Roy’s silence. Jason was not yet ready to take it personally, he had enough faith in Roy to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Jason was so eager to get to school that he couldn’t entirely keep it under wraps. Alfred raised a brow at him as they got into the car, but waited until they’d started on their journey to comment.

“Where’s the fire?” Alfred quipped, as Jason shifted restlessly in the passenger seat.

Jason flushed a dark red, which only piqued the Englishman’s curiosity further.

“Can’t I just be an eager student?” Jason retorted.

“In theory,” Alfred allowed, “But something tells me that’s not all there is to it, Master Jason.”

Jason simply stuck his tongue out at the older man, it was neither mature nor eloquent, but it got his point across quite nicely. Alfred chuckled and they fell into companionable silence. As the city passed them by, Jason thought about how he’d come to depend on Roy’s company, how lost he’d felt with only a few days without communication. He was certainly excited to see Roy again.

As soon as they pulled up to the school building Jason flung the door open, and threw a cheery _'bye Alfred'_ over his shoulder. He ran quickly around the corner to where he and Roy usually met for their morning smoke. He retrieved a cigarette and sparked up, knowing that Roy usually arrived shortly after.

He waited, far longer than he usually had to. The first bell sounded and Jason found himself still loitering around in their meeting place. It wasn’t until the late bell rang that he willed himself to move, to head to class.

  
_Maybe he just slept late,_ he reasoned, _it's not a big deal._

  
He and Roy didn’t share any classes, and with the assumption that Roy’s phone was no longer a means to communicate, Jason found himself hoping against hope that Roy would materialize by lunchtime. He was distracted throughout all of his classes, wondering and worrying. He knew he was being dramatic. People missed school or lost their phones every day, it wasn’t a reflection on Roy or their relationship.

When lunch finally rolled around Jason tried not to get his hopes up, but when their usual table was vacant, his heart sunk a little in his chest. He didn’t taste his food, his eyes never strayed from the entryway, he couldn’t help but cling on to the notion that Roy would eventually show. He opened up the Tupperware container that Alfred had packed for him, he smiled wistfully to himself as he recalled how much Roy had loved the treats. A wave of sadness came over him, and the brownies tasted like ash in his mouth.

By the time the school day ended Jason must have checked his phone a hundred times. Each time he saw he had no new messages, it hurt a little bit more. When Alfred pulled up outside, Jason couldn’t even bring himself to greet him as he buckled his seat belt. Perhaps sensing that he didn’t want to talk, the butler said nothing.

When they got back to Wayne manor Jason headed straight for the stairs, not sparing a glance at his guardian. Alfred and Bruce exchanged looks of concern, and with a sigh Bruce followed his ward. He found Jason sprawled upon his bed, face buried into his comforter. In a word, he looked defeated.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?” Bruce asked gently, as he slumped against the door frame with his arms folded.

Jason shook his head, but without lifting his face from the bed, it looked a little ridiculous. But, a sickening thought had occurred to Jason. The last time he’d spoken to Roy, they’d been discussing his improved grades, how tutoring was no longer necessary. It seemed too large a coincidence that Roy had ceased contact almost immediately after the thing that had brought them together was no longer being reinforced.

“Roy hasn’t answered any of my texts, and he didn’t show up to school today.” Jason sighed, saying it out loud made him feel a little pathetic. “I don’t think he wants to be friends anymore now that I’m not his tutor.”

Bruce cocked an eyebrow incredulously. “Has Roy said anything to make you think that?”

Jason turned his head to peer up at Bruce, a glare marring his features. “ _No_ , didn’t you hear what I said? He hasn’t spoken to me _at all._ ”

“I see,” Bruce nodded, “Jay, I think it’s a bit of a stretch to assume Roy’s absence has any reflection on you. After all, isn’t missing school to avoid someone somewhat excessive? And rather counter productive, because if his attendance - and then his grades - were to slip, you’d simply be made his tutor again, right?”

Jason pondered what his father said, and there was no denying the logic to it. Perhaps Jason had let his emotions get the better of him. When he allowed himself to take a step back and evaluate, there were ample reasons for Roy to have missed school. He could be ill. Oliver could have returned and they could be catching up, or vacationing. It was a little preemptive and maybe a little self-absorbed to automatically assume that Roy’s life and the choices he made were in anyway linked to Jason.

“He’ll reach out to you when he has the time, and if something has happened, he’ll tell you when he’s ready.” Bruce said. Jason took that to heart.

But it was hard to remember his guardian’s wisdom when each and every good morning text went unanswered, and a whole week went by without any sign of Roy Harper.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my dudes i'm sorry this took longer than expected. i'm kinda nervous that this chapter will be bland because it's a lot more about me kinda getting my ducks in a row now that this fic is reaching its end, so this is more for advancing the plot/timeline, where prior chapters have been more about character insight and relationship development (which is my usual style of writing). Nevertheless!! I hope you guys enjoy this, and as always, thank you so much for sticking with me!!!

The week passed dismally, Jason continued to send his good morning texts, though they continued to go unanswered. On the one hand Jason feared the messages would be annoying, that he would come across as clingy, but on the other he was worried about Roy, and if something had happened then he wanted Roy to know that he was there for him.

When Friday came around, Jason was at the end of his rope. Roy had missed a full school week and had made no contact. Jason’s nerves were frayed. The worry was eating him alive. His focus was shot to shit. His mind was racing too fast for him to concentrate on his own schoolwork, and when he saw Mr. Wilson raise a brow at him in the hallway, he nearly lost it completely.

With shaking hands Jason threw caution to the wind. Bruce had said to wait it out, to give Roy space, but Jay couldn’t cope with this anymore, he couldn’t bare not having the answers. The worst case scenarios kept playing on a perverse loop in his mind. He pulled his phone from his pocket.

 **[Text: Jason]:** Roy this isn’t funny  
**[Text: Jason]:** i’m coming over after school

Jason knew it was unfair to force his company on Roy if the other boy wasn’t ready to see him, didn’t want to talk about whatever might have happened - because it was obvious now that _something_ must have. But, the not knowing was wearing him down, he just needed to see that Roy was okay. He needed to _know_.

The vibration of the phone in his hand had Jason scrambling to read the message, starved for communication. When he saw that the message was in fact from Roy, he felt his heart beat double time in both suspense and relief in equal measure.

 **[Text: Roy]:** Don’t  
**[Text: Roy]:** i’m fine

Jason deflated instantly. Any relief he felt with the knowledge that Roy was okay - at least okay enough to reach out - was squashed painfully by the knowledge that Roy didn’t need him, didn’t want to see him. Roy’s response was a brush-off if he’d ever seen one, and so impersonal. Jason felt the tell-tale sting behind his eyes, and he gritted his teeth to hold the tears at bay. _Bullshit_ , he thought as he re-read the messages. No matter what Roy was going through right now, he most certainly was not _fine_. But, he didn’t want Jason’s help, and Jay knew that if he were to storm over to the Queen house like he so wanted to, his presence would be unwelcome, and he’d most likely make things worse. So, he stared resignedly down at the phone, pocketed it without reply, and tried to keep himself from falling apart.

 

* * *

 

 

Roy had spent the week in a state of despair, staring unseeingly at blank walls and ceilings, barely eating, barely sleeping. Occasionally he would end up curled on his side, ravaged with agonizing cramps as the withdrawal tore away at him. He felt the need, the relentless thing inside him, an ever-growing hunger for a fix. Somehow he had set himself to self-destruct, and there seemed to be no turning back from that, like a grenade with the pin already pulled, waiting for the inevitable carnage to follow.

He was no closer to finding peace of mind. He felt such a disconnect from the world around him, like he was tip-toeing the edge of the crater where his life had once been. As the week had drawn on, and as Jason’s messages continued, Roy felt that maybe getting back into a routine would be good for him. He didn’t feel like himself, and was certain that whoever he was in the moment, wasn’t who Jason had been reaching out to. Nevertheless, isolating himself was only proving to make things worse, and he resolved to return to school the following week.

At least, that had been the plan, until he got the phone call.

It had been an hour or so since his rather curt message to Jason had gone unanswered, and though he felt guilty for his vague hostility, he couldn’t find it within himself to reach out and make amends. The phone vibrated on the bed beside him, and he glanced at it briefly. The number was unknown, and the piqued his curiosity instantly. The list of people who might want to contact him was embarrassingly short. Dinah usually just stopped by if she had something to tell him. Oliver would leave a voicemail on the landline. For a moment, Roy considered that it might be Jason, using someone else’s phone to try to con Roy into speaking to him. But, he dismissed that notion quickly, Jay wouldn’t do something like that. Besides, a quick glance at the time told Roy that Jason would still be in class.

As the phone continued to sound, Roy gave in, curiosity winning out as he accepted the call.

“Hello? Is this Roy?” An older, male voice asked. It was vaguely familiar, but Roy was having a lot of trouble pin-pointing where he’d heard it before.

“Yeah, who’s this?” Roy replied, his voice was a little hoarse from the days of disuse. His tone was clipped, unwelcoming, but the unknown caller had put him on edge.

“It’s Jeff, Chuck’s stepdad.” Roy choked on an inhale.

He’d barely allowed himself to think Chuck’s name since that night; Had it really only been a week? There was no part of Roy that felt in any way prepared for the coming conversation. He’d crossed paths with Jeff only a handful of times, usually in passing when coming or going from band practise in Chuck’s garage. ‘Stepdad’ felt like a very loose term to describe the relationship that Jeff and Chuck had shared. The title didn’t quite sound right, wasn’t a good fit. As far as Roy was aware Chuckie and Jeff were almost indifferent to each other, Jeff was just dating Chuck’s mother and they steered clear of each other if they could help it, neither one of them really all that willing to make an effort, despite the two of them being more or less amicable. Roy had only seen them interact once, and it was a bizarre dynamic. There had been such a casual air about them, as if they were making polite - but socially-obligatory - chit-chat with a stranger at the bus stop.

“Listen, I got your number from Chuck’s phone,” Jeff continued, and Roy squeezed his eyes shut and let out a steadying breath. Though he hated himself for it, he couldn’t deny the tidal wave of relief that washed over him when he remembered Chuck’s insistence at deleting any messages that could allude to their habits. At least he knew that whatever Jeff wanted, he had no means to try and implicate him in what had happened. “And, I just wanted you to know that we’re having a service for him tomorrow, the wake is at the house in the afternoon. I understand if you don’t feel comfortable, but I thought it would be nice to have some of his friends be there. I should’ve reached out sooner, but Katherine was inconsolable and there was so much to do. It almost slipped my mind. Lord knows you boys knew him better than I did.” Jeff sighed then, it was a stuttering sound, as if he were trying to collect himself. The regret was palpable, even over the phone, and in that moment Roy knew that both he and Jeff were thinking the same thing: I should’ve done more. I should’ve tried harder.

Roy opened his mouth to respond, but nothing was forthcoming, he could feel the well of tears in his eyes and knew if he let out a sound he would sob. “You just let me know and I can text you the details.” Jeff said then, realizing that the conversation was drawing to a close, and that Roy really wasn’t able to talk about this.

“I will,” Roy managed, and he cringed when his voice broke, “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Jeff murmured, “take care.”

The silence that followed once Jeff had hung up seemed deafening. All of the things that Roy had spent a week trying to bury were suddenly right there, demanding to be confronted. But, one thought was crystal clear: he had to go.

Even though his Navajo upbringing had given him a different perception of death and grieving, and even though he’d never gone to a ceremony like Chuck would have, Roy knew that he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn’t pay his respects. He could only imagine the pain that Chuck’s mother was in, and if he could show his face and tell her how sorry he was, maybe it would help. He could embellish the truth, tell Katherine that Chucky had been the best friend he’d ever had, he knew that Chuck had introduced Roy as such to his mother more than once. Maybe it would bring the woman a small measure of comfort, to hear that her son had been loyal, and fun-loving, and a thrill-seeker. Someone outside of his immediate family would miss him. Death is a journey, but Chuck’s life should never have ended the way it did. It hadn’t been his time.

After making his decision, he send a message to Jeff to confirm he’d be there. He had to do it there and then, not give himself the chance to talk himself out of it. The details were sent back almost instantaneously. He wondered briefly if any of the other guys would be going. He couldn’t bring himself to reach out to them to find out, he had very little time for them after what had happened. None of them had bothered trying to contact him either.

Sleep didn’t come easy. Roy hadn’t been able to sleep more than an hour or two at a time since the night it happened, and it was weighing on him, wearing him down mentally and physically. With the approaching hurdle of Chuck’s funeral now looming overhead, he should have felt more keyed-up than ever, but instead he felt almost calm. He was so drained, exhausted beyond measure, and the knowledge that he would be paying his respects to his friend actually made him feel a little better. It was almost comforting to have a plan, to have some idea of a way in which to move forward. There was still so much he wished he could change, but instead of wallowing in that, allowing it to consume him, he could focus on dealing with the situation at hand. Dealing with something seemed a lot more productive that simply resenting it, as he had been so far. It was with that thought that he finally found rest, and drifted off in the early hours of the morning.

* * *

 

 

By the time Roy reached Chuck’s mother’s house, he was rather late. Having finally been able to sleep, all those nights of tossing and turning had caught up with him, and he’d slept into the afternoon. Upon waking, he’d flailed wildly and cursed up a blue streak, but had made it to the wake within an hour of opening his eyes. However, it did cause him to have a rather awkward encounter with Joey. The bassist passed him on the driveway, his guitar case clutched tightly in one hand. He didn’t say anything, not a word. His eyes met Roy’s in acknowledgement, hurt and regret and anger was visible in their depths. Roy hadn’t known what he’d been expected if ever he saw his bandmates again, but the interaction left him feeling cold, and more than a little bit disappointed.

If the others had made appearances, Roy hadn’t seen them. Jeff had made his way over slowly, stopping to speak with and thank everyone in his path. By the time the man got to Roy, it felt like an eternity had passed. Roy was numb. They tried to smile at each other, but each could only manage a grimace. Neither one of them really knew what to say, Jeff ended up giving him the exact same spiel he’d given to everyone else, the one that Roy had overheard a dozen times: “Thank you for coming. Chuck would have been grateful. We’ll all miss him so much.”

Roy simply nodded, managed to murmur a simple “Yeah,” and wished he could be more articulate, more eloquent, more _everything_ than he was.

Jeff cleared his throat then, as if he had something more to say. Roy felt a second of panic, this was off-script, Jeff had had nothing more to say to any of the other guests to far. Roy felt his heart stop. His only thought was a continuous mantra of: _He knows, he knows, he knows_.

But then, “You kids left a lot of stuff down in the garage, instruments and things, I’d really appreciate you guys taking whatever is yours, or whatever you want. I don’t have the time to sort through it all, so whatever’s left I’ll most likely sell, or throw away. So, feel free to take anything down there, if you want something to remember him by, or anything like that.”

Roy breathed a sigh of relief, and gave another nod, another “yeah”. The Navajo didn’t take from the dead. Roy had no interest in anything of Chuckie’s. It wasn’t his to interfere with. Chuck had started a new journey somewhere else. However, there were a few things of his own down there he’d like to pick up. He would’ve felt rude and disrespectful in asking, so he appreciated Jeff giving him this opportunity.

On his way to the garage, Roy passed a room with its door slightly ajar. He wouldn’t have paid it any mind if it weren’t for the barely discernible sound of sobs, of wails, coming from within. Against his better judgment, he peeked through the slit in the door, and spotted Chuck’s mother curled in on herself. She was the picture of desolation, and Roy felt lower than dirt. He moved away quickly, struggled to catch his breath.

He closed himself in the garage and leant back against the door. He closed his eyes and just let himself breathe for a moment. When he glanced around, he realized that everything was exactly the same as they left it after their last band practise, everything except for Joey’s bass, that he’d obviously collected earlier. Everything down to the empty snack packets in the middle of the floor where they’d all sat around together and written out their next set-list. With a melancholy sigh, Roy bent to retrieve the waste, and deposited it in the bin.

He glanced at his drum-kit, ran his fingertips over the edges of it. He smiled a little sadly as he thought back on how far he’d come as a musician, before it all went to shit. Music had been put on the back burner more and more frequently, to the point where it barely seemed to matter anymore. Everything paled against the need for the high. No matter how much Roy had loved drumming, found a solace and escape in it, he doubted he’d ever be able to look at it the same way again, not after this. If he ever found it within him to play again, it couldn’t be this kit, would never be these drums. They were tainted now, went hand in hand with all the devastation their band had wrought. It was then and there that Roy decided that he wasn’t going to take his drum-kit with him.

On the counter beside them though, lay his drumsticks. The drumsticks that Jason had got him for his birthday stared Roy in the face. They were masterfully crafted and engraved with his initials, and they did not belong in this room. They were a gift, given out of loyalty and friendship and genuine caring. They had been gifted by a boy who didn’t know the version of Roy this room had seen, and Roy was overcome with a ridiculous need to take them and run, to get them - and himself - as far away from this environment as possible.

The thought of gifts caused another revelation. When Roy had first started the band, the boys had done a Secret Santa round that Christmas. Chuck had been Roy’s Secret Santa, and he’d carved a wooden box in one of his classes, the box was embossed with ‘Great Frog’ and contained a rack to safely store CDs. Chuck had been so proud of himself, it was a little uneven and lopsided, obviously hand-made. Roy and Chuck had spent ages listening to albums, making note and taking pointers from some of the best rock legends the world had ever seen. Roy felt like a hand had reached in and was squeezing his heart in a vice-like grip. How could he have forgotten what it had been like in the beginning? How could he have ever doubted that Chuck was his friend? The drugs had taken over so thoroughly. The drugs had made them all doubt each other, doubt themselves. Their friendships meant little in comparison. Just when Roy thought he couldn’t possibly feel worse, hate himself more, he remembered what a good friend he’d once had in Chuck, what a good friend he’d lost. If he were being honest, he’d lost Chuck long before he’d died.

Before he could lose his nerve, Roy grabbed his drumsticks and shoved them in his back pocket, he then lifted up the wooden box and tucked it under his arm. With a final, longing look towards his drum kit, he left it behind and headed for the door. He was so ready for this day to be over.

* * *

 

 

By now, Bruce couldn’t deny that there was something wrong with Jason. His son was depressed, and though Bruce knew he missed his friend and was insecure over Roy’s absence, he couldn’t help but worry that there was something more going on. In a desperate attempt to get Jason’s mind off of whatever, or whoever, was troubling him, Bruce had offered to take him out to eat.

There was an old diner in a run-down part of Gotham. Jason had gone there to eat as often as he could when he was living on the streets. Whenever he’d scrounged himself up enough money to buy food, he always went to _Georgia’s_. Georgia was a large, greying lady who’s food was cheap and hearty. She’d often let Jason loiter around, even if he didn’t buy anything, preferring to see him out of the cold or rain. Jason had maintained that Georgia’s pies were sublime, unbeatable. Even though Bruce didn’t like the reminder of how hard Jay’s life had been before the manor, Jason loved Georgia, and loved her food. If nothing else could cheer Jason up, then it would have to be pie.

Which was why Bruce found himself dumbfounded when Jay simply pushed the pastry around a little bit and scratched the plate with his fork. Jason was non-committal, all his answers had been monosyllable and sometimes only vague gestures. Bruce was at a loss. With a grand sigh, Bruce signalled to the waitress.

“Could we get this boxed up, please?” He asked politely, oozing charm. If Jason had been in a better state of mind he might have laughed at the fact he vividly remembered Georgia’s staff bitching about customers who wanted boxes.

Jason was scuffing his feet on the way back to the car when he saw him. He had to stop for a second and really look, make sure he wasn’t imagining things. Without a word, Jason took off across the street.

“Jason!” Bruce cried, horrified as he watched his son narrowly avoid traffic to grab hold of a boy Bruce had never seen before. He hurried to follow.

“Joey!” Jason yelled, grabbing hold of the older boy’s sleeve. “Joey, have you seen Roy?”

Jason was panting. The dash across the street and the anticipation of getting information on Roy was getting the better of him. He couldn’t help himself. One moment he’d been desolate, fresh out of ideas and dissecting everything he’d thought he’d known about Roy, about himself, about what they meant to each other. He was desperate for any information Joey could give him, because surely Great Frog’s bassist would know _something_.

Joey startled, jumped back for a moment. His eyes searched Jason’s for a second or two before recollection dawned. He tugged his arm free but didn’t move away. He cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly, his brow furrowed as if he’d only just registered what Jason had said.

“Roy? Oh, yeah. Like, a coupla hours ago,” Joey shrugged.

Jason frowned. After the cold shoulder that Roy had given him all week, it was a little heartbreaking to know that he hadn’t been doing the same with his other friends. _Maybe I am the problem after all._ “Oh….Did, uh...did he say anything? Is he okay?”

“We didn’t speak, we just kinda crossed paths.” Joey shrugged again, “Okay? Yeah, I mean….as okay as he can be I guess, I mean….It was a funeral, y’know?”

“F-Funeral?” Jason stuttered, his mind reeling. All this time he’d been feeling sorry for himself, and Roy had been grieving. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like the world was tilting at a funny angle. He wanted to go to Roy. He needed to hold him, to comfort him, to just _be there_.

“....W-Who-” He couldn’t get the words out.

“What?” Joey’s brows pulled together, his face a mask of confusion. But slowly, his expression cleared. He sighed and raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Roy didn’t tell you,” he murmured. It wasn’t a question.

“Tell me what?” Jason demanded, his heart in his throat.

Joey met his eyes, something almost like pity visible in his gaze. “Kid…..Chuck’s dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and once again: when this fic ends i'm considering opening up requests and turning it into a verse, i haven't gotten any opinions on that so far, so imma just leave that idea out in the void in case you guys decide that's something that you want! kudos and comments are love!!!


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who is still reading along!!  
> I was hoping to update before now, but y'know, shit happens! This chapter is a little longer and I hope that makes up a little for the wait. I was also hoping to get this whole thing completed by it's 2 year anniversary at the beginning of January, but at this point it now seems unlikely. But be aware that we are hitting the final stretch! 
> 
> To anyone interested in the verse, here's how it's gonna be: For the sake of finding muse and keeping the story cohesive, I will only be taking requests of time stamps. So anything that happened in the timeline of the fic that you would like to be expanded upon, or seen from another perspective etc etc, as well as anything you'd like to see from the future according to what information the ending gives you.
> 
> I will also be only taking requests over at my tumblr (oathkeptroxas), for the sake of my own organization as I am hardly ever actually on ao3 unless I am actively updating the fic. 
> 
> Thanks so much for the support!  
> Also, Hold Me Tight or Don't by Fall Out Boy is such a soundtrack to this fic. And I booked tickets to see them again yesterday so consider this update a celebration of that!!

_I got too high again_  
_Realized I can't not be with you_  
_Or be just your friend_  
_I love you to death_  
_But I just can't, I just can't pretend_  
_We weren't lovers first_  
_Confidants but never friends_  
_Were we ever friends?_

  
**'Hold Me Tight or Don't' - Fall Out Boy.**

* * *

 

Jason stood frozen, unable to really piece together what Joey had said. In the days that he and Roy had been apart, Jason had considered countless scenarios, he’d gone over everything he’d said and done and tried to rationalize the distance between them. He suddenly felt overwhelmed. He was disgusted at himself for his own self-obsession, he had been so worried about where he stood with Roy, that he’d barely pondered the idea that Roy could be going through something much bigger. Roy certainly hadn’t needed Jason’s insistent prodding.

“Jason,” Bruce called again.

Jason watched as Joey’s eyes focused on something over his shoulder, and his eyes widened. Upon seeing Jason’s father approaching, Joey knew he needed to get gone. “I….I gotta go,” he let out abruptly before stepping away and melting into the busy street.

Bruce put a hand down upon Jason’s shoulder and turned his son to face him. “What were you thinking? You could’ve been killed! You can’t just run off like that.” Bruce reprimanded firmly, shaking Jason’s shoulder a little as he nodded his head towards the passing traffic.

The stern expression on Bruce's face vanished instantaneously as he took in the look in the boy's eyes. There was a wildness there, something trapped and frantic. “Jason,” he breathed, as though afraid of spooking his son. “What happened? Who was that?”

“I need to see Roy.” Jason blurted, his voice sounded choked-off, like speaking had been a struggle. “I need to go right now, _please,_ Bruce.”

Maybe it was the pleading that did it, the uncharacteristic desperation that was so disconcerting coming from Jason, who was usually so proud and stubborn to a fault. But Bruce found himself unable to argue, after all, his own efforts to cheer up his son had been pitifully unsuccessful. Whatever the stranger had said to Jason had clearly shaken him, propelled his concern for his friend to new heights, intensified the ache of their separation. Maybe seeing Roy was what Jason needed. Perhaps it was best to just get it over with, like a band aid. If the friendship between the two boys had really come to an end, then at least he could get some answers. With a solemn nod and a hand to the small of Jay’s back, Bruce herded him back to the car.

Jason was silent as they made their way through the streets. He was pensive, his brow knitted, his hands shaking almost imperceptibly. Bruce knew no information was forthcoming and he didn't know if prying would be the right thing. He remembered with a dull ache how tight-lipped Jason had been when they'd met, how distrustful and cold he’d been. He remembered how heartbreaking it was to see a child so void of the light and warmth and optimism that is so often synonymous with childhood. He didn't want to give Jason any reason to go back to that. Bruce trusted that they'd come far since then, that his ward had truly blossomed under the care himself and Alfred had bestowed upon him, but he also knew how coping and defense mechanisms worked, and didn't want to trigger any of Jason’s.

As they got into the car and buckled their seatbelts, Bruce took a steadying breath. He gathered his thoughts for a moment. He may not have wanted to push, had no intention of pressing for more information, but he still felt an innate need to grapple back some control, to ensure Jason’s safety and reaffirm his authority as the boy's guardian. He pinched at the bridge of his nose.

“I have a gala to attend this evening,” he reminded softly, having already established that morning that Jason didn't intend to join him. “It’ll be just you and Alfred tonight, he's cooking your favourite.” The Englishman had certainly noticed Jason's somber mood and was doing what he could to make things easier. “Make sure you're home in time for dinner. Alfred will pick you up when you're ready. I mean it, Jason. Be home for dinner.”

Jason finally met Bruce's gaze head on. There was still that haunted look in his eyes, but he seemed far more aware. He nodded. Jason knew what Bruce was trying to say. He wasn't allowed to stay late, wasn't allowed to even ask if he could spend the night at Roy’s. He understood his father's concern. Bruce was notoriously observant, perceptive in ways that rarely steered him wrong. If Jason was getting a sense of unease, of underlying trouble, from this whole situation, then undoubtedly Bruce could feel it too. Given those circumstances, it was a miracle that Bruce was allowing as much as he was, especially given he didn't know enough to make a more informed decision.

As they pulled up outside the Queen estate, Jason bid his father a goodbye.

“Have fun at the gala,” Jason teased, knowing how uncomfortable the stuffy events often made his mentor. But Bruce could tell it wasn't heartfelt, that Jason had said it on reflex because it was such a common exchange between them. Jason was trying so hard to act normal.

“Get outta here, you little smartass.” Bruce quipped back. He could pretend too, could bury his worry for the time being. But as Jason closed the door behind himself, Bruce rolled down the window and called him back. “Jay, be careful.”

With a final smile and a wave, Jason watched Bruce drive off. Staying there until the car was completely out of sight, he tried to find the nerve to finally confront Roy. He didn't want to think of it like that: a confrontation. But he was worried that it wouldn't come across any other way, that Roy would see this as being cornered. Jason sighed before heading up the long, winding driveway.

As he approached the main house, he could hear the bass of loud music. The closer he got, the more he realised just _how_ loud it was. By the time he reached the door, he doubted Roy would even hear his knocking with how the window panes were practically quivering to the sounds of Smoke on the Water. One advantage to living in such a large property was the lack of close neighbours, but with the music blasting the way it was, Jason figured that noise complaints were likely the least of Roy’s worries.

Roy had mentioned on multiple occasions that music was like an escape to him, that he often sought out his favourite songs when in need of comfort. With what Jason now knew, he felt it wasn't too far a stretch to assume that Roy was purposely trying to drown everything out. Heedless, he bashed his fist against the door a number of times. “Roy! Open up!” He screamed, but he knew it was no use. There was no way he’d been heard from inside.

With a frustrated sigh he retrieved his phone, rapidly shooting off a message.

**[text: Jason]: I’m outside. I'm not leaving until you talk to me.**

Knowing now that Roy’s disappearing act had been out of grief, and not because of anything that had gone wrong between them, gave Jason the confidence he needed to be assertive. He knew that Roy needed someone to talk to, however reluctant he was to the concept. Even if his friend couldn't admit it, Roy needed him. Jason wasn't going anywhere.

It was a welcome surprise when the house immediately grew silent. Maybe it was a testament to how well Roy knew Jason, that he didn't even attempt to wait him out, make him stew. Jason was stubborn and loyal and bull-headed. Jason would wait on that doorstep all night. Roy didn't think there was any point in delaying the inevitable. A part of him was surprised it had even taken Jay this long to track him down. A minute or two later the deadbolt slid across and the door was tugged open.

Roy's eyes were sunken, dark circles and heavy bags weighed them down. His hair was unkempt and his jaw lightly stubbled. The large hoodie he donned drowned his frame entirely, but Jason could’ve sworn he’s also lost weight. The uneasy feeling returned tenfold, intensified by the mounting concern. There was so much he needed to say, so many conflicting feelings that he couldn't sift through fast enough to even _think_.

“You look like shit,” Jason blurted. Not what he’d wanted to say, certainly not the heartfelt pledge of unwavering support he had initially envisioned he’d give. And it was entirely worlds away from the whispers of his own subconscious that, more often than he would’ve liked, imagined the confession of all-encompassing love he’d give if things were different. “Roy, you need to take care of yourself,” his voice became softer, fond. _Let me take care of you_.

Roy scrutinized him for a moment. He tried to remain stoic, wanted to rebel against the fact Jason was speaking to him like a child. He wasn't ready to talk about what happened. He wasn't prepared to open that door. There was too much he was concealing, and he was afraid if he started talking he’d never stop. And then it would be over, Jason would leave, and he wouldn't look back.

Jason sighed when it became apparent that Roy wasn't going to say anything. He took a hitching breath before gesturing behind his friend, into the house. “Are you gonna let me in?”

Roy’s gaze found the floor, but he wordlessly headed back inside, leaving the door open in invitation. Jay hastened to follow, ensuring the door was securely locked behind himself. He didn't like this Roy. He'd never seen Roy act this way, so withdrawn. Even in the beginning, Roy had been outspoken, there was a spark in him, a fearlessness that bordered on recklessness. He longed to step forward and hug his friend. They'd grown so much closer over the course of their friendship that physical affection had become a fairly standard thing between them, not knowing if touch would be welcome now made Jason felt a little queasy.

It had been hard for him, his whole life he’d struggled with being close to people. He'd never had all that many friends. Living on the streets had made everyone a threat. His friendship with Roy had healed him. Roy was an open person, grew up in a close community and had always been very social. Roy was one of the only people he was comfortable with, and the idea that Roy was no longer comfortable with him broke Jason’s heart.

“Roy…” Jason started, wanting to say something to help but at a loss for what exactly to say.

“Just…” Roy whispered, his voice was strained and husky, like he’d either been silent for too long or he’d been screaming. “Can we just….not? Jay, I don't wanna talk about it, alright?”

“I…” Jason paused. He didn't want to push, but he knew better than most how ugly things could become if you let them fester. He had to let Roy know that what had happened was no longer a mystery. Roy may not have wanted to tell Jason, but he knew now. Jason couldn't in good consciousness keep Roy in the dark about that. “I’m sorry….I-I saw Joey…..He told me about Chuck. I'm so sorry.”

Roy's head snapped up then, shock splashed across his features. His breath came quicker. “What- What did he say?”

“Not a lot. Just that Chuck was-....That Chuck has died. He thought I already knew. He thought you’d told me.” Jason's voice was soft, his tone placating, as though he was worried he would spook Roy if we moved too fast, spoke too loudly.

“I don't have to tell you everything,” Roy’s voice held a bitter edge, the words would have been hurtful if it weren't for the defeat that Jason could plainly hear. It was as if Roy was still in the process of convincing himself, like he didn't fully believe what he’d said. Roy took a deep breath. “He didn't…..didn't tell you that I was the one who found him.”

“Found him?” Jason asked incredulously, before he could stop himself. He'd been so concerned, consumed with getting to Roy, that he hadn't paid any mind to _what_ exactly could’ve happened to Chuck. It was too much to hope it might’ve been an accident, just a cruel twist of fate with no guilt to be dished out.

Roy made a sad, desperate sound, something caught between a scoff and a sob. He took a seat on the sofa then, and hunched himself over. Jason wasted no time in sitting beside him. The younger boy placed a comforting hand atop Roy’s quaking shoulder.

“Yeah…It was just some stupid after party. We didn't even know most of the people there. I just, I wanted to go home. I was done with it, and I couldn't find any of the guys.” Roy broke off, his voice cracking over the words. He’d been forced to relive this night in a tortuous loop since. But he hadn't ever had to speak of it before. Maybe if he'd just gone looking a little sooner. Maybe Chuck would still be alive. He grasped his head in his hands. “I went to find them….any of them….I just…..then I found this dark bedroom and I thought ‘maybe I could just….stay here a while….in the quiet’...but then I...and he was.” The splash of hot tears shouldn't have been so shocking. Jason’s thumb began to run gentle circles into the back of his shoulder. “He was just...on the bed...The n-... _the fucking needle_...and I-I couldn't…” _Save him_.

Jason stiffened at his back. His every muscle clenched. If Roy wasn’t so flayed open at that moment there would’ve been no way he could’ve missed it. Jason’s eyes were wide, boring into the side of Roy’s face. “I just can't stop thinking that...if I’d just gone looking a little sooner, he’d still be here.”

As Roy finally said all he could, and took a deep cleansing breath to calm himself, he became aware of just how hard Jason’s was gripping his shoulder, the crescents of his fingernails were pinching, even through the thick material of the hoodie.

“Jay?” Roy asked, fearful. When he looked over he saw the haunted look on Jason’s face. His lips were slightly parted and his breathing was heavy. His whole frame was shaking. His eyes were hollow, as if he wasn't even there. “Jay?” Roy asked again, louder, worry creeping in. He placed a warm hand on Jason’s thigh and immediately Jason’s gaze snapped to Roy’s. The desolate sadness on Roy’s face was what finally got through to him. Roy needed him. Jason could compartmentalize, Roy was his priority right now. And if he was focusing a little too hard on Roy’s problems so he could avoid his own, then nobody had to know.

What Roy had said finally filtered through and his heart ached in his chest. He was familiar with the guilt that Roy was feeling, he’d asked himself the same questions enough times. “Roy, it wasn't your fault. I know it feels like it now, but that's just a natural part of the grieving process,” Jason started softly. “Trust me. I’ve been where you are.”

It was plain to see that Roy was sceptical, that he felt Jason was simply feeding him a line. Roy felt like he was falling apart inside, and despite his self-loathing and his desire to be alone, he was more than grateful to have a friend like Jason. Jay had tried harder for him than anyone else had.

There had been times, glimmers and fleeting moments, where Roy had looked upon Jason with a different kind of fondness. Roy’s life was a mess, there was so much going on that he rarely could bring himself to dissect the why's and how's of what he did or thought or felt. He hadn't been lying when he said that relationships didn't interest him, at least not yet, not when there was still so much he needed to work through. But Roy wasn't stupid, wasn't blind to the way he and Jason acted around each other, the lingering gazes and the touching that was a little more than was usual for something strictly platonic. In another life, where Roy was more put together, more emotionally available, he would’ve kissed Jason a million times over by now. He’d never stop. But this was his life, and he never deserved Jay.

He looked away then, couldn't bare to look at what he couldn't have for a second longer.

Jason could feel the lump forming in his throat. No matter the amount of counselling he’d had since Bruce had taken him in, and no matter how much his life had improved, this was hitting a little too close to home. This blatant reminder of his mother's death was hard to bare, and he knew that Roy was unlikely to take anything he said to heart until he knew just how much Jason understood what he was going through. He closed his eyes for a moment to compose himself be placed his hand atop Roy’s where it still rested on his thigh.

“I think I should tell you how I ended up with Bruce…” Jason murmured. “I think it will put some things into perspective.”

Roy looked back at him then, turned his hand under Jason’s until their fingers were linking. “You don't owe me anything.”

“I know,” Jason smiled gently, almost sadly as he recalled their fight. Barely any time had passed since then, and at that time Jason couldn't stomach the idea of ever coming clean about his history. The time apart had really put things into perspective. He’d missed Roy so much, and he wanted to be more open with him, share a little more of himself. If sharing his story would help Roy believe he wasn't to blame for what happened to Chuck, then Jason figured it was the least he could do.

“I was 12 when Bruce took me in. I know I mentioned his charity work before, but I don't think you understand the scale of it. Bruce does so much for this city, always looking for the next cause to support. I was a street kid. Bruce had been volunteering and donating at a soup kitchen I used to go to sometimes,” Jason began, he couldn't meet Roy’s eyes, was afraid of what he’d see there. But when Roy squeezed his hand, it gave him the strength to continue. “He caught me trying to steal his tyres. I was gonna sell them. I bounced around different shelters, the only one that had room was run by this sleazy guy. He’d leer at me sometimes, even tried to proposition me once. He was spouting some shit about making it worth my while. I was _fucking 12_.” Jason seethed for a moment, he let out a shaky breath. “Needless to say I couldn't go back there, but it was the beginning of winter and it was freezing. I figured a rich guy like Bruce Wayne could replace his tyres in seconds. He wouldn't miss them. And high quality parts like that? I could’ve sold them for more money than I’d be able to beg for or pickpocket in a good couple of months. I just….I had to. If I couldn't get a coat, a thermal sleeping bag for the winter, I’d be dead.”

Jason’s breath hitched. He shivered as he remembered just how desperate he’d been. He had nothing to live for but he didn't want to die. He remembered the fear, the undercurrent of terror that lived inside him like a physical entity. He remembered the hard exterior he’d had to construct, the violence involved with fending for himself. After his mother died, he’d stopped being a child pretty quick.

“And he catches me in the act, and what does he do? Fucking adopt me.” Jason chuckled, shook his head as if he still couldn't believe it. “And I think the worst thing was that, I know now that Bruce is just that kinda guy, and if I needed money, he’d have just given it to me.”

Roy eased back in his seat, tugged Jason with him until they were plastered side by side in the depth of the couch cushions. “How come you were on the streets in the first place?” He whispered, overwhelmed by all this information and beyond grateful that Jason was safe, but still struggling to piece together what it was about his history that Jason had felt was so important for Roy to hear now.

“My dad was a criminal. Some low-life thug, thieving, aggressive and violent. I don't remember him at all really. He was in and out of prison and I’m almost certain he’s still there now.” Jason’s voice took on a hard edge, as if the mere mention of his biological father left a bad taste in his mouth. “But my mama? She raised me by herself. We never had much of anything really. I know it was hard for her. But she loved me a lot. I was too young to understand then, didn't put the pieces together until later. I thought she was just sick.” Jason's voice broke on the last word, he let go of Roy’s hand to wipe at the tears that were building in the corners of his eyes. Roy had a sickening feeling that he knew where this was going, and he hoped against hope that he was wrong.

“I...I found her-...she was...the needle…” Jason stuttered, couldn't get the words out but the implication was clear. He breathed deeply for a few silent moments before he sniffled and composed himself. “So, y'see? It's the same thing. I thought for a long time “What if I’d found her sooner?”. But those questions don't change anything. They just stop you from moving on. It's the same for you. It wasn't your fault.”

Jason was peering up at him with eyes so full of admiration and Roy felt sick. There was something dark and twisted, ugly that was slithering inside him. He felt turned inside out. It _wasn’t_ the same. Roy had known. He had _known_ that Chuck was endangering his life. Fuck, he was endangering his own. He couldn't breathe. He needed to get out. He needed to- he couldn't-

“Roy!” Jason snapped. He cupped Roy’s head between his hands and rested their foreheads together. “Hey, Hey! It's okay,” he soothed. “Just breathe with me, alright? In, out. In, out.”

Roy followed Jason’s lead. The softness in Jay’s eyes, the sparkle of genuine care. It was almost his undoing. Roy knew now, without a shadow of a doubt, that he could never tell Jason the truth. He would lose him. Drugs had taken Jason’s mother, robbed his childhood, subjected him to criminals and perverts and nearly claimed his life. There was no way that Jason could ever know about Roy’s indulgence. He had brought this on himself. He refused to take Jason down with him. Worse than that, he didn't want Jason to stay with him out of obligation, out of pity, out of some misplaced residual guilt over the fact he couldn't save his mother. Roy understood better now why everything with Jason felt so important. If you love someone you save them from yourself. If you love someone you let them go.

“Jay,” he mumbled brokenly. A sob caught in his throat as he fell against his friend. It didn't take much for Jason to rearrange them until Roy’s head was resting in his lap. Jason ran his fingers through Roy’s hair, and Roy cried until he fell asleep.

Jason gazed softly down at Roy’s dozing face. He knew that he had to call Alfred soon if he was gonna make it home in time for dinner. Though he was loathe to leave Roy in his current state, he knew that getting everything off his chest had been good for Roy, and this was most likely the best sleep he’d had since it happened.

Knowing that Roy was in desperate need of rest, Jason decided not to wake him. Carefully, he slid out from under Roy, replacing his thighs with a pillow beneath his friend's head. After firing off a quick text to Alfred, Jason stared longing down at Roy, wishing he could stay, wishing he could comfort Roy in the ways he wanted.

With a sigh, he bent to press a lingering kiss to Roy’s forehead. He grabbed Roy’s keys off of the table on his way out, he locked the house up behind him and posted the keys back through the letterbox. He hoped that Roy felt better in the morning.


	28. Chapter 28

The gala started out like any other. Names were checked off at the door as the city's most prolific people made themselves welcome. Charity auctions and raffles took place, connections were established and the champagne was abundant.

Bruce Wayne wasn't an overly social man by any means. Though he was generous in ways that continued to amaze his peers, intelligent and thoughtful, and grateful to the multiple noteworthy causes that galas just like this one had informed him of, Bruce found the whole ordeal a little stifling. There was a tediousness to the mingling, a falsehood with every clink of his glass. Many of the guests were more interested in their own public image than they were in the organizations they were donating to. But still, he endured.

He was considering branching out, finding a new cause to support. Though he was more than happy to donate whenever and wherever necessary, everyone had their corner, their specific interests. Bruce tended to lean towards children's charities, education and housing. He funded multiple soup kitchens and homeless shelters as well as after school clubs and scholarship programs. Any organizations that centered around relevant causes would seek him out.

Bruce adopting Jason had been the subject of controversy within his circle. Bruce had always suspected that many of them were only in it for the publicity, for the admiration that the title of good Samaritan gave them. But he knew it indefinitely when news spread about him taking in Jay, and the whispers started. No one had been expecting him to do something so unheard of. Bruce already was known for being hands-on with his charity work, volunteering whenever he had the time. But to take in a street kid?

Too many of the wealthy lived with the notion that if you throw enough money at a problem you can get it to go away. Bruce had no such belief. Money was a necessity of course, many organizations thrived on donations. But Bruce cared too much to do nothing more than sign cheques. He wanted the people he aimed to help to know that he was genuine, that he could be trusted.

The opinions of those with less social standing didn't matter to the majority of the city's finest. They only concerned themselves with how good they looked to their peers.

He was shocked out of his reverie when a hand snaked its way under his arm and found purchase in the crease of his elbow.

He felt his lips tug into a smile. “Selina,” he greeted.

Selina Kyle was a socialite of sorts. She was mysterious and independent and elusive. She had a perfectly crafted poker face, so that no one but Bruce could tell that she hated this place and almost every single person in it.

They'd met at a gala very much like this, they'd both spoken up at the exact same moment to ask a question to a charity representative, and locked eyes as Bruce gestured for her to speak first. Selina specialized in women's shelters and advocated against animal cruelty. And Bruce had been enamoured.

After months worth of flirting and a rather scandalous situation involving a coat closet and too much champagne, they still had yet to define their relationship. Bruce hadn't even mentioned her to either Alfred or Jason.

“Bruce,” she replied, an air of breezy nonchalance about her just like always. But slowly, Bruce was learning to read her, and he could see the teasing tilt to her lips that didn't quite form a smile.

They'd gotten to know each other rather well as time had worn on. Many late night dinners had brought them closer, and though his family didn't know of her yet, he had told her quite a bit about them.

The gala proceeded like any other, until Bruce found himself amidst a group discussion including a representative of Queen Consolidated. Ever since Jason had befriended Roy, Bruce had been wracking his brain to recall anything he knew of Oliver Queen. He was sure the two of them had attended the same events on multiple occasions over the years, yet they had never directly crossed paths, never had any one-on-one or personal interaction. He knew that Oliver Queen prioritized environment based charities. He knew that Mr Queen, like himself, did not particularly conform to the hive-mind of the other wealthy, prestigious citizens. He also knew that Oliver, _unlike_ himself, had no qualms letting people know that. Oliver Queen was notorious for his laid-back yet loud-mouthed demeanour, his habit for being more than fashionably late, and his fickle interests - as though he was never satisfied, constantly seeking.

It was with this knowledge in mind that Bruce couldn't help but scrutinize whoever had been sent on Mr Queen's behalf, as he wondered what possible ‘stand in’ could potentially be in place when it came to his ward. He knew his preoccupation hadn't escaped Selina’s notice, and as the party began to wind down and the two of them found a seat in a quiet corner, he knew it was only a matter of time before she asked out-right. She always was too curious for her own good.

“Should I be worried?” She spoke up, right on cue.

“About what?” Bruce asked, feigning ignorance.

“Well, there's clearly _someone_ here who’s holding your attention more than I am.” She crooned, but Bruce could tell she wasn't actually jealous, wasn't concerned.

She was just trying to play coy, not wanting to seem to forward in her want for information. Selina was all about the chase. She was masterfully, and seductively aloof.

“Do you know anything about Oliver Queen?” Bruce couldn't help but ask.

Selina quirked a bow, clearly surprised by the line of inquiry. “Not particularly. I collaborated with his company once. It was a joint project, his environmentalism and my animal conservation. We campaigned against deforestation and other similar issues, hoping to maintain natural habitats and things like that.” She shrugged a little, “I never met him though. One of the associates I dealt with was here tonight. We spoke.”

Bruce hummed a little as he absorbed that. He seemed very pensive.

“It's strange that you mentioned him. I was asking about him earlier.” Selina elaborated, “When I bumped into his representative, I asked if Mr Queen was here. I wanted to thank him personally for his contribution. Apparently he was supposed to be heading back to the city this weekend. They were half expecting him to actually show up here tonight.”

“It's odd, don't you think? That he's not more present? Most of these people are only in it for the notoriety.” Bruce pondered.

Selina merely shrugged again. “From what I hear he's always been a little free-spirited, doesn't get along well with the other people here, thinks they're ‘stuffy’.” She sipped at her wine as she appraised him. “What do you want with him, anyway?”

“A friend of Jason’s says that Oliver Queen is his legal guardian. I was just wondering how that could be, it doesn't seem to fit with what I know of the man.”

“Hmm,” Selina tilted her head, but decided that she didn't know enough to comment. “How is Jason?” She asked instead.

Bruce smiled at the thought of his son, somehow instantly more enamoured by Selina when he heard the genuine interest in her voice, the way she seemed happy to hear of his family.

“Up and down,” Bruce started, with a wry grin, “But I hear that's just how teenagers are.”

She chuckled lightly, and raised her glass to her lips.

 

* * *

 

When Roy awoke, he was alone. The world had darkened around him as he slept, but at this time of year that was no indicator of the time. It had been mid-afternoon when he’d worn himself out.

Blearily he reached for his phone. The light momentarily blinded him before he was able to read for himself that it was barely past 8pm. He had managed to sleep for quite a few hours, but with how he'd been plagued recently, he’d needed all the rest he could get.

It was when he saw the numerous text messages from Jason, still open and unanswered, that the events of the day came back to him. He recalled how gentle Jason had been, how he’d handled him like he was precious, all calming words and soft touches. He remembered looking into his eyes and seeing unwavering affection, and knowing that it would be taken from him the second Jay knew the truth. The memory of falling asleep in Jason’s lap, the warm, smooth denim of his thighs feeling like home, had a sob bubbling forth. His stomach rebelled, he could feel the burning in his throat as he shot up and across the room. He barely made it to the kitchen in time before he blew chunks into the sink.

“Fuck,” he hissed. He slid down the cabinets to sit on the tile, his head was grasped tightly in his hands. “Fuck!” He seethed again.

He replayed the tremble in Jason’s voice, the soft concern in his eyes. He remembered thinking that Jason was more important to him than anyone, that he would never be able to love him the way he deserved. Jay had been aching with loss as he bared his soul, and Roy didn't deserve him.

Roy had known for a while that he was destroying himself. He was riddled with bad habits and poor choices. And no matter how much he may have hated the hand he’d been dealt and the plays that he’d made, he’d never really hated himself before. But he felt it now, the merciless, clawing self-loathing that threatened to choke him.

And the worst of it was how much he was still controlled by it - the junk. For too long it had been a quick fix, a reprieve from whatever he was going through. It was a knee-jerk reaction now, a conditioned response. It was a thrumming under his skin, a ringing in his ears. It was a need like no other. The worse he felt about himself the more he craved it. It didn't seem to matter that his negative feelings were being caused by it in the first place. It was a vicious, hopeless cycle.

He knew he needed to stop. He knew. But after everything, the call of welcome numbness was simply too great. He didn't want to feel this way anymore. The junk would help him forget, even just for a little while.

Like putting a band-aid on a bullet hole, it would do no good in the long-run. It was a temporary fix that simply left the wound to fester.

Roy found the strength to pull himself from the ground. He blinked away the burning sensation in his eyes as he steadied himself against the counter.

“I can’t,” he whispered, desperate, hopeless, stuck. _I can’t do it again_ or _I can’t give it up_ , he wasn't even sure which himself.

He staggered back into the lounge, saw the box that Chuck had carved and crafted sitting innocently on the table top. His fists clenched and his teeth gritted. Everywhere there was a reminder of his regrets, this big empty house built on broken promises, a loneliness that he’d tried and failed to overcome.

“FUCK!” He cried, and flung his arm out.

He struck the box with such a force that he felt the sting of it in his knuckles, surely hard enough to bruise. The box went sailing, landing with a heavy clatter on the ground, out of view.

With a deep breath through his teeth, Roy tried to compose himself. He didn't know what to do. His every thought was consumed with the need for a fix and the weight of what it might cost him. What he wanted no longer mattered, it hadn't been about want for a long time. It was a need now, like water, like air. He was shaking apart without it. He hated it more than he hated himself.

With another deep breath, he rounded the table, knelt down to retrieve the box, prayed that it hadn't been broken. As he righted it, something inside was askew, the inside came away in his hand.

His brow quirked in confusion before realization dawned. A secret compartment. His breath caught in his throat as he lifted the inside away completely and peered beneath.

Like some kind of sick cosmic joke, like some perverse sign, he could only stare. The baggies. The needle. The spoon. The same little pocket mirror Chuck and he had snorted off a dozen times. It was a hidden stash.

With quaking hands he reached in, couldn't help himself. It was one thing to crave it when he had no means of slaking the need, but it was quite another to feel like he was dying without it only to deny his salvation as it sat before him.

He thought of Jason. He thought about how he had felt when he had found Chuck's body, wondered how much worse it would’ve been if it had been his own mother. Roy had never had a mother. He didn't even have a father who loved him, at least Jason had that much.

He gazed down at the junk in his hand. Laid it all out on the table. He slipped his lighter out of his pocket, took his belt off to create a tourniquet, and took a seat. There was nothing but a need for his fix. That's all he could afford to think about.

He was so drawn in, so consumed with his task and the distraction from his tattered life, that he didn't even hear the jingle of keys in the door, or the gruff voice calling his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all had a fun holiday period whether you celebrate or not, and i wish you all a happy and healthy 2018!!  
> I am SUPER nervous about this chapter and was originally intending for it to be longer, but it was kicking my ass and I did not want to pressure myself into writing the coming confrontation given my current mental state and my promise to myself of getting this updated by new years!  
> i hope you all enjoyed it regardless!! please let me know your thoughts!  
> And, once again, one this fic is complete I will be opening up requests for timestamps over on my tumblr (oathkeptroxas).  
> As you may have noticed I don't typically reply directly to comments here because I'm not really logged into ao3 unless i'm updating, i have managed to reply to a few people but i always forget. so, tumblr is definitely the place to reach me. i have anon enabled should you prefer that or if you dont have a tumblr but want to make a request, anon is available to you :) thank you so much for reading!!


	29. Chapter 29

It all happened so fast. There was the customary pinch of the needle as it broke the skin, the tension in his arm as the belt pulled tight against his bicep. There was a moment, a split-second of relief that came with the knowledge that it was done. The high was imminent, the free-falling feeling of carelessness, followed by the welcome numb.

He knew the come down would be severe, would tear down his already fragile will to keep going. But, like always, he’d managed to convince himself it was worth it for the temporary reprieve it gave him. He had barely withdrawn the needle, examined the new red dot that marred his pale skin, the drugs hadn't even had the chance to take hold when he heard it.

There was a choked off gasp, the muted thud of a duffel bag being dropped on the hardwood floor. Almost as though in slow motion, Roy felt himself turn towards the sound, and meet the wide eyes of his guardian.

Oliver stood frozen, as he struggled to comprehend the scene before him. Roy's lips moved, his mouth opening and closing, but there was nothing to say. He couldn't form words.

Cynics always say “there's calm before a storm”, optimists say “the best is yet to come”, and hopefuls say “sometimes things have to get worse before they can get better”. Humanity is always spouting baseless philosophies that all boil down to the belief that things _just happen_. It displaces guilt. It kills every ‘what if’.

But this wasn't fate. This was a sequence of events. They could be traced back step by step, by step. Everyone was to blame and no one was. People make choices and they have to own that. Actions have consequences. Everything was bound to come to an explosive end sooner or later, Roy’s life had been on a collision course. It was time for the crash.

In an instant, Oliver thawed. His eyes blazed, and Roy didn't dare analyse what he thought he saw. “What-" Oliver began to yell, only to break himself off. He rolled his bottom lip between his teeth and his clenched fists shook at his sides. There was no use in asking what was going on. It was clear.

“Why?” Oliver asked instead, there was a tremor in his voice, an undercurrent of barely restrained emotion.

Roy scoffed before he could help himself, it wouldn't be long before the high set in, there was no use drawing this out and there was nowhere left to hide.

“You're seriously gonna ask me that?” Roy began, “Maybe if you'd have been around for even a second I wouldn't have to find company elsewhere!”

He wanted so badly to blame Oliver, to hold him personally responsible. But rationally, it wasn't Oliver's fault. Not really. Oliver should be held accountable for the part he played. Roy was a child, and it was Oliver's job to keep him safe. There was a lot that Oliver needed to atone for. But he wasn't the only one with a hand in this.

There are plenty of kids left alone, plenty of kids in worse situations than him, and there are plenty of kids who don't turn to heroin. Roy was under no illusions that he’d ruined his own life, he was the one who was so desperate for companionship that his critical thinking skills went out the window. Oliver had said a thousand times: most teenage boys don't want their parents hanging around. Roy could've joined a sports team or a fucking book club if he wanted friends so badly.

And what about Chucky and the band? Weren't they also to blame? Chucky who had passed him his first spliff, had shown him the ropes to every substance he'd ever taken, and lost his life to it. And what about their parents? Weren't they also at fault? There was no use in playing the blame game.

But that line of thinking would come later, would eat away at him for the rest of his life. Right now there was only self-righteous indignation, and everything spewed forth and boiled down to this: “You abandoned me!”

“You think this is my fault?!” Oliver cried, shocked and offended at the implication, anger mounting.

“I'm your responsibility, aren't I, old man? You wouldn't know responsibility if it bit you in the fucking ass!” Roy screamed further. This is what he’d wanted - an outlet, a confrontation, a conclusion.

Oliver opened his mouth to speak, but Roy cut him off. He advanced on his mentor, his fury feeding into it, stoking the flames he could see burning in Oliver's eyes.

“You should have been here!”

“I….” Oliver broke off, took measured breaths to contain himself. “I don't have to listen to this.” It sounded like a hiss.

“What? You gonna walk away? That's what you do best though, right?” Roy taunted. He tried to tell himself to stop but he couldn't. Now that the valve had been opened his every frustration was pouring forth.

“Roy,” Oliver said, his tone gave no room for an argument. “That's enough.”

“Fuck you,” Roy spat, as he rapidly blinked away the sting of tears. “You don't get to tell me what to do. You can't just be a parent when it's convenient! I don't know why I expected any different! You ruin everything you touch! You can't commit to anything! You don't know how to love anything! All you've ever cared about is yoursel-"

One second he’d been speaking, and the next he was on the ground. The sickening smack of flesh hitting flesh echoed through the room, and then everything went still. The ache in Roy's face had him clutching at his jaw. His wide, wet eyes stared up at his guardian in shock.

Oliver was gazing down at his own hand as if it didn't belong to him, as though he couldn't fathom what he’d done.

Wordlessly - _desperately_ \- Roy scrambled backwards and hauled himself up. He dashed for the door and just kept running. Oliver made no move to stop him.

When he finally made it out of the grounds and down to the corner, he slumped against a street lamp. He was shaking with adrenaline and overwhelmed by what had happened. He could feel the drugs working their magic as the pain in his face became a far off sensation. The sharp corners and heavy implications of what had happened almost instantly seemed unimportant. There was a hysterical laugh building in his throat.

“Fuck him,” he giggled, “Don't fucking need him anyway.”

Roy wasn't aware of how long he was stood there, night had already begun to draw in, the sun halfway through setting when he’d first awoken from his nap. In the dark, the passage of time was ambiguous. It couldn’t have been long though, because the high was still a welcome buzz, a distancing numb that he knew from experience didn't last anywhere near as long as he needed it to. But for right now, he felt on top of the world.

He heard someone call his name and snapped his head up to find Dinah walking towards him. She was wrapped up tight in her thick winter coat and was undoubtedly headed for the Queen House, probably already having been informed of Oliver's return.

She took steps closer, and the quizzical concern etched on her face morphed into immediate shock as she came close enough to see his face in the light.

She instinctively reached a hand up to touch his swollen cheek and his head swung listlessly to the side in avoidance. He laughed, it was more of a choked-off sound.

“What happened?” She asked, her voice was airy and disbelieving. He didn't reply, and she tried for a comforting smile. “Let's get you inside and cleaned up, okay?”

She moved to grasp gently at his elbow and he jerked his arm free immediately, took a wide and exaggerated step back.

“Nope,” he laughed again, “Not going back. Can't make me.” He stated, as though the very concept of returning to the house was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard.

Dinah’s brow furrowed again. She had never seen Roy like this. He was unfocused and disjointed and seemingly incapable of meeting her gaze. There was a hysterical grin on his face and his eyes were heavily dilated.

“Roy,” she said slowly, softly, as though he were a frightened animal or a small child. “I need you to come with me, okay?”

She may not have had the details, but it was clear that Roy wasn't himself, and whatever was happening had gotten him hurt. She placed a hand on his shoulder and turned him back towards the estate.

As she struggled to lead a disoriented and resisting Roy to the door, she pondered the various scenarios that could have led to this, and each knew hypothesis simply added to her growing anger. It came as a shock when they finally reached the porch and Roy stopped dead.

“I’m not going in,” Roy almost sing-songed. “It's better if I don't. You can't make me.”

Dinah pushed on his shoulders, got him to sit on the bottom porch step. She ran a hand through his hair affectionately. Maybe the fresh air would do him some good now that he was safe and off the streets. She figured it may be best to confer with Oliver first, warn him before she brought Roy in.

“Okay,” she started, “You can stay out here for now, but you gotta promise to _stay_ here.”

Roy nodded, and he half wondered if he could get away with smoking a cigarette before she came back. She'd probably smell it on him but he was beyond giving a fuck.

Dinah didn't bother knocking. She cautiously walked through the hall, stepped gingerly over Olivers bags that had been unceremoniously dumped in the entryway. She found Oliver in the front room, he didn't look up at the sound of her approach. His hands were clenched tight onto the back of a dining chair, his shoulders were tense and hunched inward. It became clear that something had happened to Oliver too, presumably the same instance that had hurt Roy.

“What the fuck happened?” She hissed.

“Nice to see you, too, Pretty Bird.” Oliver breathed out on a sad little scoff.

“Don't you ‘Pretty Bird’ me! Have you seen Roy’s fac-"

“Did you know about this?” He cut her off, inclined his head to the table top before him. “Maybe not all of it but....did you ever have an idea? I didn't…and I should have.”

Dinah took her eyes away from Oliver and pursued the scattered items. Things jumped out at her - the needle, the belt. Before she knew it her hand had come up to cup her mouth in shock. Pieces started to fall into place with a sickening snap.

“Roy?” She asked, but she knew. She simply wished it weren't the truth.

Oliver didn't answer verbally, but his head was bowed in shame. His whole body trembled and he hadn't relinquished his vice like grip on the chair. All at once she started getting horrible ideas of dealers coming to call, about Roy owing money, of them roughing him up a little.

“What-" she broke off, felt a sob threatening to choke her. “What happened, Ollie?”

“I…” he began, his voice was weak, his eyes were haunted. “I didn't know….I-...” His voice was growing thicker, and he raised a hand up to rub beneath his eyes. “I came home and he was-...and this...and then he was yelling. Kept telling me it was my fault...and I was so out of my element...so angry at the whole thing that I….” He trailed off, and stared morosely down at his own clenched fist.

“No,” Dinah breathed, heartbroken and disbelieving. “What? Oliver you-... _you_ hit him?”

Oliver bowed his head, couldn't meet her gaze, and she knew she had her answer.

“How could you?!” She cried, hot tears spilling forth now. “That boy needs help, Oliver! Help!”

“I know,” Oliver snapped. “I'm sorry. I just reacted. I didn't think- didn't realize. I didn't want to- didn't mean to hurt him.” His voice trailed off, once again took on that soft, defeated tone. “I was so angry, and lost, and I didn't know what to say or do and I lashed out. I-...I’m sorry.”

“I'm not the one you should be apologizing to.”

“I know. Is he okay?” Oliver asked desperately. “Where is he?”

Dinah inclined her head to the door and Oliver strode purposely toward it. She trailed close behind as he made his way out onto the porch.

“Roy?” Oliver ventured, he saw the way that Roy's shoulders tensed, but he didn't turn to face them.

With a sigh, Oliver took a seat on the step beside his ward. “You were right,” Oliver's voice was choked. He was a stubborn and proud man by nature. His own parents had been emotionally closed off, he’d never learnt how to open up. Words never did come easy. “I failed you,” he breathed. “And I am so sorry, kiddo.”

Roy glanced over his shoulder at the man then. Saw the tears that shone in his father figure's eyes, and felt the tell-tale sting in his own. A sob bubbled up.

Dinah came to sit on Roy’s opposite side. Both she and Oliver wrapped an arm around the trembling boy. “We’re gonna make it right,” she whispered as she pressed a kiss to the boy's temple. “You’ll see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today marks the 2 year anniversary of this fic!!  
> That's so wild to think about! Thank you so much to every single person who has left kudos or commented. If anyone has been here since the beginning, I owe you so much. This fic wouldn't have kept going without you.
> 
> The continual support and all the feedback I get really do keep me pushing on. Of course, the golden rule is to write for yourself and be proud of what you produce, and i am super proud of this fic, but there have been many times where I've considered "you already know how it ends, do you really have the motivation to type it all up?"
> 
> But the fact that kudos keep going up with every update, that I get comments from people who are new readers who have binge read the whole thing? It just inspires me so much. As long as you guys are invested enough to keep reading then I am invested enough to keep typing.
> 
> I wanted to end this chapter at a different point but I also wanted to get something up to commemorate this milestone and this is unfortunately all I have to offer right now.
> 
> Thanks again and I love you all!!


	30. Chapter 30

The rest of the evening was stilted, awkward. Nobody seemed to know how to navigate, it was uncharted territory. The silence between them was suffocating.

Steeling herself with a deep breath, Dinah reached a hand out to pat Roy’s shoulder. She knew that his high would soon dissipate, and whatever was to come wouldn't be pretty.

“Why don't you go take a shower while I fix us something to eat?” She said, and despite the softness of her voice, Roy knew it wasn't a suggestion.

There was a part of him, most likely the bravado that came with the high, that wanted to refuse, to rebel against it. He knew that the second he was out of the room Dinah and Oliver would be talking about it, about _him_ , about what to do with him.

He wanted to demand that anything they had to say they could say to his face. But a larger part of him didn't want to know, would rather hide from the mess he'd made a little while longer.

With a nod, he wordlessly headed for the stairs. His movements were jerky, he felt the excess energy the drugs had given him thrumming through his veins. He wondered if his body would shake apart with it.

It was only when she heard the sound of the shower turning on that Dinah felt herself relax a little. Roy was home and safe, that's what was most important. Still, there was a talk with Oliver that couldn't be avoided for much longer. Their earlier discussion had been brief by necessity, the priority was on getting Roy inside. But now, after having a little longer to truly process, there were definitely things that needed to be addressed.

“This is bad, Ollie.” She began, as she stared down at her feet.

Oliver dropped himself down onto the sofa, with his head in his hands. He gave a loud sigh, but didn't speak.

“I can't believe we let this happen.” She breathed, distraught.

Oliver huffed then. “We didn't _let_ anything happen, Dinah. We didn't know. There's no way we could have.”

Dinah wanted to protest, but Oliver continued. “You see him a lot more than I do, and you didn't notice anything was off with him either. We didn't know because he didn't want us to. He didn't want to be found out.”

There was a part of Dinah that immediately wanted to refute what Oliver was saying, but begrudgingly there was a point to be considered there. Often Roy would crawl out of bed in the afternoon, groggy and lethargic. He was temperamental at times. But she'd never had any reason to believe anything was going on because to her it just seemed like typical teenage behaviour. Now she knew that there was something more sinister at play, she could look back and recognize the signs. But at the time, there were just other, more plausible - _more innocent_ -explanations.

Still, there was the nagging feeling, that guilt that weighed heavy on her mind as she couldn't help but wonder if she might have noticed if she'd just paid a little more attention. There had to be some root cause to this, and Oliver's inability to accept the part he may have played didn't sit well with her.

“Oliver,” she started carefully, composing herself, “You can't seriously be suggesting that this is Roy’s fault.”

“What? No.” Oliver looked up at her then, there was a torrent of emotion in his eyes, impossible to decipher. “That's not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you trying to say?”

“I'm saying that this shit happens. Teenagers rebel, they fall in with the wrong crowd. Peer pressure is a very real and very dangerous thing.” Oliver shrugged a little then. “Kids don't want their parents hanging around, they don't want their parents sticking their noses into their business. They think stuff like this makes them cool or tough. They get in over their heads. It's awful but it happens.” He twined his fingers together in his lap and gazed down at them. “And there's no guarantee that you and I being around any more would’ve made a lick of difference.”

He was right. She was loathe to admit it. But there were so many variables at play here. There was so much they still didn't know. This could very well be a bout of teenage rebellion gone too far, and if that were the case then perhaps they really couldn't have made any difference. Teenagers who rebel like that do so for the very purpose of defying, so it was naive to believe they would simply then just listen to reason. There was a reason why schools have mandatory lectures about peer pressure and substance abuse, because unfortunately things like this happened every day. Still, that didn't absolve them of the part they had played.

“Fine. If you're gonna use that excuse - because that's what it is, Oliver, _an excuse_ \- if you're gonna believe that you being around more may not have made a difference, then you need to acknowledge that the flip side of that coin is _maybe it would have_.” She told him, unflinching as she met his tired gaze. “You gotta own that, Ollie! _It's on you_.”

She felt the sting of tears as she turned away from him abruptly, unwilling to have this conversation for a moment longer. She wiped at her face and carefully gathered up the evidence of what had happened.

“I'm gonna get this place cleaned up before Roy comes back down,” she sniffled, before taking everything into the kitchen and closing the door behind her. She dumped the remaining drugs down the waste disposal unit, feeling choked at the sight, before she braced herself against the sink.

Oliver Queen sat in pensive silence, unable or unwilling to reconcile what had happened with the boy he knew Roy to be.

The night passed dismally after that. Dinah whipped together a dinner that - though delicious - wasn't enjoyed. Roy sat at the table only because Dinah had called him down, and he wordlessly pushed the meal around his plate, the few bites he managed to stomach sat heavy in his gut. He kept his head down, and neither Dinah or Oliver knew what to say to make him open up.

With a murmured thanks to Dinah afterwards, Roy headed back up the stairs. Dinah cleared the table with a dejected sigh and Oliver grasped her elbow as she passed. “Just give him time,” he whispered. “He just needs time.”

Dinah wasn’t so sure about that.

The following few days were hell. Roy was a ticking time bomb as his come down hit him full throttle, and the withdrawal process was torturous.

Dinah could hear him pacing around at night, unable to sleep. Throughout the day Roy was a ghost. He was scarcely seen, he almost seemed more like an ominous presence and not a physical being. Getting through to him seemed hopeless.

Groans of pain echoed as they bounced off of the bathroom tiles, the onslaught of cramps had him vomiting up the measly amount of food that he’d managed to swallow. His appetite had evaporated completely with no signs of returning. On one occasion Dinah caught him rifling through the first-aid kit for bandages. She'd barely had time to make out the raw and bleeding skin of his inner elbow before he abruptly turned away and left the room. He must have been scratching at his track marks and the resulting scabs violently. With a shaky breath she gathered together some antiseptic spray and a couple of band-aids, she left them on the floor outside his room after knocking quietly. Roy had barely spoken a word at all.

Oliver had tentatively tried to reach out to him on multiple occasions. Soft knocks and placating words through the bedroom door always went unanswered. More than once Dinah or Oliver had walked past his room to hear the sound of muffled sobbing. They were at their wits end.

How could they even begin to help him? They were so far out of their element. They'd called the school, declared Roy sick. But they were at a loss for what their next step should be. Rehab had been an obvious line of thought, but it was a delicate situation. The confrontation between Roy and Oliver had destroyed Roy’s faith in them, and the last thing they wanted was for Roy to think that he was being palmed off. A rehab admittance would make all of this too real, it would be an acknowledgement of just how big of mess they'd made of things.

Another cause for concern was the other children that were likely involved with this. Surely, Roy hadn't taken this path alone. But the only one of Roy's friends Dinah even knew by name was Jason. Despite Roy's obvious aversion to talking about what was happening, Dinah knew that she needed to wrangle information from him eventually, sooner rather than later. There were other children out there who were in danger, they needed help too, she needed to warn their parents.

She smoothed her hair down nervously as she approached Roy's bedroom door. She knocked loudly and cleared her throat. She wouldn't be deterred this time. “Roy?”

She waited for a few moments, and received no response. That was okay. She'd been prepared for that. But she wasn't going anywhere. “Roy, I know you don't want to talk but it's important. You need to tell me about it eventually.”

Again, she heard nothing from inside the room, not even the muffled sounds of movement. She'd grown so accustomed to hearing noises from him as he moved around in hiding, that the stark silence was worrying. She tried to quell her panic. “Roy? Roy, I'm coming in.”

She turned the door handle and almost fell through the frame in her haste to see him. He was sat at his desk in the corner, his hands in his lap and his head was bowed. But he appeared unharmed.

She took a second to breathe through the relief. “Don't scare me like that.”

Roy inclined his head a little, as if he were going to look up but then thought better of it. With a soft sigh, Dinah moved to perch on the foot of Roy's bed. She knew getting information out of him would be like pulling teeth, but she was prepared to sit with him all night if she had to.

“Roy, we want to help you.” She started, “I don't know how much you think you're hiding from us, but….we know you're struggling. We see it now. And we don't know what to do.”

She watched as Roy's fists clenched. He bit into his bottom lip but didn't respond.

“We….we don't have many options,” she admitted carefully, “We….don't think being here is what's best for you. We want to help, but we're not equipped to give you the kind of help you need. We can only support you through it, but you need to speak to professionals about this.”

It wasn't anything that Roy hadn't already thought himself, no matter how daunting and terrifying the prospect seemed. So far, he’d been far more receptive to Dinah than Oliver, it made sense that she'd come to confront him alone, he mused. He was still a minor. Oliver could have him shipped off wherever he wanted with nothing but a signature. At least they were making this seem like it was his choice, they were working with him, he could appreciate that.

“I...I know.” He said, not knowing how best to express all that he had been feeling, and unwilling to speak in depth about his experiences.

Professionals would help. He could come clean to them and know that in their line of work they'd likely heard worse, that it wasn't personal, that what they thought of him wouldn't matter in the long run. Roy couldn't imagine telling Dinah his truth, only to have to look her in the eye every day afterwards, worried about what she thought.

“But...before-....before we take steps in that direction there are some things I need to know.” Dinah took a deep breath then, and Roy braced himself for what was to come. “I want you to tell me the names of the others involved in this. They- they need help too.”

Roy’s eyes blurred with the sudden flow of tears. If this had happened only a few weeks earlier, would they have been able to help Chuck? A sob caught in his throat.

“There's- there's no one else,” he croaked.

The message from Joey still sat unanswered. It was everything Roy had predicted. Great Frog were disbanded. Chuck’s death had shaken sense into all of them. Roy wished he had been strong enough to resist, but he had been closer to Chuck than the others had been. He and Chuckie had been abusing harder drugs for longer, the others mostly used weed recreationally, they'd only ever done a line or two of coke before at most. They hadn't been as sucked in by the promise of _sex, drugs and rock’n’roll_.

Roy wondered if maybe he might have been strong enough if circumstances were different. If Oliver had just walked in at any other time - if Chuck hadn't died, if he hadn't stumbled upon that stash of heroin accidentally, if he hadn't had to listen to the trauma of Jason’s life and have to confront his own self-loathing. If things had been different, if everything hadn't happened all at once the way it did, would he have been able to walk away, like Joey?

“Roy,” she addressed firmly, despite how upset he clearly was she wouldn't accept him lying about this. “That can't be true. It's important that you tell me.”

But there truly was no one for them to help, no one because- because, “he's dead,” he whispered.

“What?” Dinah exclaimed.

“Chuck. My friend...He- he died.” Roy wailed.

Before she could even think about whether or not her touch would be welcomed, Dinah was across the room. She fell to her knees beside his chair and wrapped her arms around his shoulders where he was hunched over. She soothed and murmured through his cries, grateful that he wasn't sending her away.

Finally, the wracking sobs reduced to small sniffles, and Dinah pulled back to look at him. She ran her fingers through his hair in comfort. She could see the dark circles under his eyes, the pale, gaunt look to his face. His hair was greasy and unkempt. Though she had known he hadn't been taking very good care of himself, to see him like this still took her by surprise, broke her heart.

Again she cursed herself for not being around more, for not being there for him. Even if she hadn't known the truth of what was going on, it pained her to imagine him alone while he grieved. Had he had no one to turn to? But wait-

“What about Jason?” She recalled how close they'd been, how they'd looked at each other, how shy, soft but unsure Roy had been when he’d told her about Jason’s nightmare, about how he'd held him through it. There was a quiet concern there that couldn't be faked, that spoke of something deeper.

But at the mere mention of the other boy's name, Roy jolted. He grasped her biceps tightly, his knuckles were white as he shook her. “Don't tell him. You can’t- you can't- _please don't tell him!_ ”

His eyes were boring into hers with desperate pleading, still red-rimmed and watering. This was the most animated, the most alive and aware, she'd seen him in weeks. There was something almost unhinged about it. She had a gut feeling there was more to this than she suspected.

“Roy, I-" she began to placate, but he cut her off.

“He doesn't know anything. He had nothing to do with it- Dinah, please!” He begged.

Roy could feel himself hyperventilating. His breaths were catching in his throat as hiccuping sobs. Jason couldn't know, not ever. There was no way for it to end well. At best - in the _absolute best case scenario_ \- Jay would stick around out of obligation, out of respect to the poor boy he'd been who'd already lost too much to this. Roy couldn't handle that. He refused to allow Jason to see him as someone who needed to be saved. He couldn't live the rest of his life being defined by this to the person who mattered the most.

He hadn't figured out yet how to deal with Jason. He hadn't reached out since the day it all happened, even though Jason dutifully sent good morning texts. It was only a matter of time before Jay came knocking on the door again. Maybe when he was in rehab he could convince Oliver to tell some elaborate spiel about a boarding school. Maybe when he was back on the straight and narrow he could seek Jason out. Maybe if Roy could learn to be worthy of him, he and Jason could be something.

Often over the prior weeks, he’d seen the way that Jason had looked at him, all gentle wonder and fond affection. If he hadn't been so eaten up by self-loathing, and if he wasn't a patchwork of mistakes, he would have made a move. He didn't think Jay would've turned him down. So, maybe, when he was better, there'd be hope for them. But could Roy really allow himself to build something like that based on a lie? Didn't Jason deserve more? Jason deserved the world.

“Okay, alright. I won't.” She promised, and it wasn't a lie.

Dinah wouldn't tell Jason about Roy's addiction, she wouldn't even speak to the boy. But, the reputation that Bruce Wayne had, gave Dinah the impression that he would have the necessary contacts to find Roy the best facility possible to oversee his recovery. She would rather involve someone who knew Roy. She also wouldn't be able to forgive herself if she didn't make sure Bruce was prepared for how Roy's absence may effect Jason.

She remembered how worried Roy had been after Jason's night terror, she recalled how she had pacified Roy by ensuring him that Jason would tell him about himself when he was ready. She had to trust that the same would be true in reverse. If nothing else, Mr Wayne needed to know that there were children involved in this, if not his own son, then certainly people he knew.

Roy had gotten himself so worked up he could barely breathe, and the cramps that came and went as a part of his withdrawal chose that moment to strike. He sprinted to the en-suite bathroom and flung the door closed behind him with such a force that it bounced back and reopened. Dinah watched in abstract horror as Roy retched over the toilet bowl, and the porcelain was sprayed with blood.

“Roy….” She breathed, frozen in place.

“Please,” Roy groaned, “Just go.”

As soon as she had slipped from the room she closed her eyes against the onslaught of tears. She fought them back by sheer force of will. They would do her no good. She now had a plan, a course of action to take, and the idea of finally doing something productive for Roy's future filled her with both hope and determination in equal measure.

She thumbed through her contact list until she found the number for Wayne Manor, it seemed like a whole other lifetime when she thought back to the night Jason had given it to her. She pressed call. She walked through the house as the phone rang, and sat down on the back porch as she awaited an answer. The harsh winter chill bit at her face, but the crisp air made her feel more alert. She knew Oliver wouldn't look for her out here, and she didn't want to have to explain this conversation to him. Oliver was too proud to ask for help, would never approve of what she was doing. But this wasn't about Oliver's feelings.

Finally, the phone clicked and a thick British accent came through the line.

“The Wayne residence. May I ask who's calling?” The man said.

“Hi, yes, hello. My name is Dinah Lance, I was wondering if Bruce was available to speak. And, uhm, it's about his son. Could you not let Jason know that I'm calling if at all possible? - He’ll recognize my name.”

There was a pause as the man considered that. “I’ll get Master Wayne for you.”

“Thank you.”

There was a shuffling sound, and some movements for a few moments before she heard the British man speaking to somebody. “Where's Jason?”

A deep voice, presumably Bruce answered him, “Upstairs in his room, why?”

“There's a Ms Lance on the phone for you. She said that Jason shouldn't know she's calling.”

There was another small shuffling noise, as though the phone changed hands before she heard Bruce say “Thank you, Alfred,” in a dismissal.

“Ms Lance?” He inquired.

“Hello, Bruce Wayne? I was hoping you'd be free to talk about some things. I'm not sure if you remember but I'm Oliver Queen's girlfriend - kinda, sometimes - it's complicated. I have some concerns about Roy and how they may impact Jason, and would rather discuss this face to face if you're able.” She managed.

“Yes, of course. Please, feel free to stop by whenever you'd like. Or I can meet you somewhere if you'd prefer?”

Dinah thought about that for a second. Not only was this a conversation she would certainly not want to have in public, but the prospect of paparazzi following Bruce and seeing them together was unsavoury to say the least. “I’ll be over right away if you're sure that's not a problem. I’d rather if Jason not know that we're speaking though.”

“No problem at all. Jason's been rather distant lately, perhaps you could shed some light onto why. We'll talk in my study, Jason knows not to disturb me there.”

After they said their goodbyes Dinah headed out. She claimed to Oliver that she was going to get takeout, and quickly made the walk back to her own apartment to retrieve her motorcycle. It was only as she got nearby that she realized the sound of the bike might draw attention to her arrival. She left her bike parked and locked up down the street before she approached the mansion.

Before she had the chance to knock, the door swung inward. An older, balding man dressed in a well-pressed suit welcomed her inside. “Please, follow me, Ms Lance,” he said, the British accent informed her that this was Alfred.

“Please, call me Dinah,” she murmured as she obediently followed behind him.

She barely had time to take in her surroundings. Everything was elaborate and grand, old-fashioned and overly-furnished. Despite the properties being of a similar size, this was a far cry from the minimalistic and borderline modern decor of the Queen house. She gazed up at the large marble staircase, anxious that Jason would peer down and spot her at any moment.

Before long they arrived at a large oak door, Alfred tapped his knuckles against it lightly. When they heard Mr Wayne call them in, Alfred gestured for her to enter before he spun on his heel and walked away.

Squaring her shoulders and taking a breath, Dinah pushed the door open. The room was warm, and well-lit. There were various folders and documents scattered across every surface, despite Bruce Wayne's outward appearance and reputation being that of someone who was always flawlessly organized. Bruce himself sat in a large, well-worn leather office chair. He smiled when she stepped in.

“Ms Lance, please, sit.” He gestured to a small leather two-seater.

“Call me Dinah,” she told him as she made herself comfortable.

“Very well, I’m Bruce.” He said warmly.

She felt so out of her element. It hit her full-force that she was about to tell a relative stranger how she and Oliver had failed. But she trusted the work that Bruce did was good work, that if anyone could help her find the right people for Roy's recovery, it would be him. She prayed that she hadn't been the only one to notice the attachment between Roy and Jason, and she hoped that Bruce would want to help because of that, if nothing else.

“What can I help you with?” He prompted when Dinah struggled to speak.

“It's- it's a long story. I don't know where to start. I guess, maybe, well...Oliver and I don't have the most….conventional….relationship. Maybe that's part of it? Maybe if there were more stability then Roy would’ve- I.” She took a deep breath. “Oliver travels a lot. We're both independent people by nature. We enjoy a lot of freedom, but when we're together, we're good together. So, when he's here we're a couple, but when he's not….we’re….kinda not. I guess. It works for us anyway. I guess I just never considered how that could impact Roy. I'm not around as much as I should be. I visit him regularly when Oliver's gone. Despite me and Oliver being pretty open, I love Roy. I do.”

Dinah knew she was going off on a tangent. She knew but she just couldn't _stop_. A part of it was stalling, wanting to put-off the inevitable and do what she came here to. But the more she spoke the more ideas started forming. There had been so many things that had likely cultivated the situation they now faced. How had she been so blind?

“Dinah,” Bruce cut off her rambling. “What happened?” He asked softly.

“Oliver, he,” she started. “He never had the best upbringing. His parents were very materialistic. They thought their fortune was affection. I guess Ollie never wanted for anything and he never knew any different so it never occurred to him that there was anything wrong with it.”

She breathed slowly for a moment, and found it hard to meet Bruce's eyes.

“He's dense, stubborn, proud. I don't think he even realized how emotionally unavailable he can be sometimes. Maybe that's part of why our relationship is the way it is. But still, I should have seen how it could hurt Roy. I didn't mean to I-" Dinah broke off, not wanting to get too far of track this time.

Unbeknownst to them both, Jason had chosen that moment to wander downstairs. Often times these days he would seek out Alfred for company. They would cook together, like they had in the first days Jason had moved in. After a childhood on the streets, a survival dependant on eating anything and everything available, it was a luxury for Jason to experiment, to learn exactly what it was he liked.

But as his socked feet got to the bottom step, he saw the slither of light come through the crack of the door. He heard muffled voices from within. One of which was high and lilting - a woman. He couldn't make out more than the general tone and timbre. But Bruce only ever shut himself in there to finish reports or to take business calls. He never held visitors there. It was enough to peak Jason’s curiosity.

Silently, he slid down the wall beside the door, his rear hit the marble and he brought his knees up to his chest. He tried to peer through the slit where the hinges met the frame, but the door was almost entirely closed and he could make out nothing more than colours. He strained himself to make out words.

“I didn't mean to I-" the woman said mournfully and broke off. Jason wracked his brain, he knew he'd heard that voice before but he just couldn't place it. He didn't have to wonder for long, however, as Bruce gave him his answer.

“Dinah,” Bruce said softly.

 _Dinah_. Jason’s brows drew together in confusion. What was Oliver Queen's girlfriend doing here?

“Dinah, what happened to Roy?” Bruce pressed, firm but gentle.

Jason’s eyes went wide, and for a second he couldn't breathe as his whole body began to tremble. He pressed himself more firmly against the wall, straining himself to make sure he didn't miss a single syllable.

“Oliver- he….I wasn't….He…” She broke off, as if the words were stuck in her throat, as if she had to force them out. “He hit him.”

Jason went rigid. His fists clenched and he bit his bottom lip so hard he almost drew blood. He wanted to storm in there and demand details. He wanted to go running over to the Queen house himself and give Oliver Queen a piece of his mind, but Dinah kept on talking.

“He was just shocked- he was overwhelmed and they were arguing and he didn't mean it. He apologized. They're fine now, but that's not- I’m sorry that's not what I came to talk about- I just.”

Bruce could sense that Dinah was beating around the bush. She was impulsively sharing all these details that - though they may be part of it - weren't the route cause of her dilemma. Still, the fact that Oliver had hit Roy made his blood boil.

“Why?” He breathed. “Why did Oliver hit him?”

Not that there was ever an excuse for that. But whatever in particular had caused the argument seemed to be what Dinah was having so much difficulty talking about.

“He...He walked in on Roy….with-...There was a needle.”

Everything blacked out for a second and suddenly all Jason could hear was white noise, his whole world condensed down to the all-consuming feeling of terror brought on by the mere suggestion of _Roy_ with a _needle_. He was cold all over, numb. His gasp was drowned out by Dinah’s resounding sob.

“I don't know how long it's been going on but-" her breath hitched. “Earlier today he told me that one of his friends died from it and I-"

Suddenly, Jason felt blindingly, violently sick. Desperately he scrambled up from the ground and rocketed up the stairs. He barely made it to the bathroom before he lost his lunch. The sobs came hard and merciless, wracking his small frame. When he closed his eyes, he was a frightened little boy again, finding a body on musty floorboards, only this time, it wasn't his mother's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> This chapter kicked my ass. It was really draining and it definitely got away from me. I honestly don't know if this chapter really conveyed what I wanted it to, but I'm hoping you guys enjoyed it regardless.  
> Any and all feedback i receive really does motivate and inspire me, so if you could spare a few moments to share your thoughts it would be greatly appreciated.  
> Thank you all for reading!


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I've decided to pre-emptively open up time stamps requests!!  
> Obviously you can't really request something for the future because you don't know the ending, but if anyone has any requests for any point in the already established timeline, or any point prior to the beginning of this fic, please feel free to request over on Tumblr (@ oathkeptroxas) 
> 
> I'd really love to get a feel for what kinda stuff you guys want to see. Anon is enabled if you'd prefer that or if you don't have a Tumblr but want to make a request, anon is available to you. If you have a request for the future that is ambiguous enough to not be effected by the ending, feel free to send that over too!

Night had fallen over Wayne Manor, the dark blanket of a winter evening reminded Dinah that she really needed to get home. She hadn't realised it had been so late. The hours bled together, and after days cooped up in Oliver’s house, walking on eggshells, hoping for a solution, she no longer knew what day it was. Roy would only get worse before he got better. Everything had just happened so fast, almost all at once, as if no time had passed at all. It was no wonder she couldn't keep track.

She quelled her coming sobs, managed to reign them in. She knew if she broke now it would take too long to reassemble herself. She was too strong and proud to allow a relative stranger like Bruce Wayne to see her so vulnerable. Even asking for his help, being in his presence and telling him the things she had, was out of character for her. But she'd done it for Roy, she'd do it again. Family was her only weakness.

After finally telling Bruce what she needed him to do, and after assurances that he would do everything in his power to facilitate that, Dinah felt an all-encompassing wave of relief. It allowed hope to blossom, knowing that soon Roy would be surrounded by people who knew enough to help him in ways that would count. He hadn't lost his chance at a life. It wasn't too late.

“I’ll pull in some favours, make some calls,” Bruce informed her. “I promise, Dinah, I’ll do whatever I can to assure Roy gets the best care.”

“Thank you so much. I know I'm asking a lot, you don't know me, don't owe me anything. I just- thank you for your kindness.” She was so grateful, so eager to get this underway, to see Roy healthy again.

She also appreciated the fact that Bruce didn't pry for more information. He listened, and once he knew the problem and recognized what she was asking of him, he switched right to assurances. He didn't ask for details, didn't need them in order to hold up his end. It wasn't his place to know any more than he’d been told. Dinah got the feeling that he really understood that too, unlike most of the high-society types that would kill for this kind of gossip.

She started to straighten her jacket as though preparing to leave. After a soft clearing of her throat, she reached for her motorcycle helmet off of the carpet, but before she stood, she turned back to Bruce.

“I-...Roy told me not to tell Jason. He doesn't even know I'm here actually but-....Roy got very… _panicked_ when I mentioned Jason. He assured me that Jason wasn't involved, you don't have to worry about that but- " She broke off, as if to think on her next words for a moment longer. “I've never seen Roy like that before...Frantic. Desperate. Like the idea of Jason finding out was more devastating than anything that had happened.”

Bruce gave a soft, drawn out sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose and bowed his head, with his eyes squeezed shut. Things were certainly starting to come together in his mind's eye.

“I can't help feeling that there was more to that than I know. And, it worries me how much it affected Roy.” Dinah murmured.

“I can probably shed some light on that.” Bruce said, finally looking up to meet her eyes. He could tell that her concern was simply for Roy and what could have been bothering him enough to cause his reaction. After what she had entrusted him with, Bruce felt her intentions were pure and telling her the truth about Jason’s circumstances would only garner compassion and understanding from her. “Jason was homeless until I took him in. His mother was an addict. She overdosed. He was the one who found her.” There was something vulnerable in Bruce's eyes, something that tugged at the inside of Dinah’s chest. “He’s been with me since he was 12.”

Dinah’s eyes shimmered as her hand came up to cover her mouth in shock. But she said nothing. There weren't words.

“I wouldn't be surprised if Jason finally shared his history with Roy at some point. Which would explain Roy not wanting Jason to find out about what's been going on.” Bruce reasoned.

The wheels in Dinah’s began turning. All the pieces fell into place. Jason’s night-terror, the way neither of them ever really fit in with the rest of their school peers, that trapped-animal look in Roy's eyes when Dinah had brought up Jason - it all came into focus with a sickening snap.

“I see,” she said carefully. “I think I get why Roy didn't want him to know. I can't even imagine-" she broke off. Suddenly, her face smoothed out, her expression became polite, closed-off a little. “Of course, you know how Roy feels about this but, you're Jason's father, ultimately if you decide it's something Jason should know then- well, I'd have no right to stop you.”

Bruce may not have known her from Adam, but he was a quick learner, and he was getting the sense that there was little she wouldn't do for those she loved. The idea that she may have betrayed Roy’s confidence, that she had given Bruce the ability to defy Roy's wishes, clearly didn't sit well with her. She stood to leave.

“Thank you again for all you're doing, and for listening in the first place,” she said.

“Dinah?” Bruce called out to her as she reached the door. She looked back over her shoulder, her brow quirked. “I may not owe you anything,” he said softly, repeating her earlier words, “But I _do_ owe Roy. You've no idea how good he's been for Jason. That's part of the reason why I want to help. And I don't think it would be a good idea to tell Jay about this either. You can tell Roy to rest easy, his secret is safe with me.”

Dinah let out a breath in relief. “Thank you.”

Bruce nodded to her. “You have a good evening. I’ll call you when I have news.”

* * *

 

Jason couldn't tell how long he’d been sat on the bathroom floor. Hopeless scenario after hopeless scenario played out in his head and he was powerless. He kept thinking about his mother, memories of the two of them together, faded with time and distorted by what he now knew.

Some time later, when he had managed to slow and regulate his breathing, he became aware of the fact that he was rocking slightly, propped up against the bathtub with his knees snug to his chest. It was a testimony of how far he'd come, to know that he had handled this panic attack alone. He’d been so skittish when he’d first met Bruce. He was scrappy and distrustful and woke up in cold sweats to the sound of his own choked-off screams.

But as time passed, he became dependant instead. It hadn't lasted long - Jason was independent by nature, always had been even before it had become a necessity - but there had come a time, around the one year mark of Bruce taking him in, where Jason had been almost clingy. He had wanted to go everywhere with Bruce. He would actively ask Bruce to sit with him during bad nights, instead of raging and crying and sending him away. He told Bruce things he'd never told anyone else, tried to help Bruce understand why the whole transition from his old life to this had been so difficult. As a rule, good things didn't happen to Jason. It had taken a long time for Jason to shake that feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. When he first realised that he had grown to trust Bruce implicitly, he had revelled in it, wanted to soak up the most of a good thing while he had it. And Bruce had never seemed to mind, always indulged him.

Looking back, Jason marvelled at how far in his recovery he'd actually come. He knew how to handle things now for the most part. His nightmares were few and very far between, usually only brought on by stress. He was more open with others now, more willing to engage, he felt more alive. He was excelling in his studies. He wanted something for himself now when he hadn't before.

Carefully, Jason stood and braced himself on the basin. He gazed at his own reflection for a moment and couldn't reconcile who he saw there with the little boy Bruce had found him as. For a second, Jason allowed himself to feel proud of what he’d accomplished. But the thought of how far he'd come only drew attention to the cruel irony of how far Roy had fallen. The best days of Jason’s life were the worst of Roy's. He didn't think he could live with that. With trembling hands he reached to turn the faucet on. He splashed his face with cold water, tried to wash away the residual panic. Losing himself wouldn't do anyone any good.

Slowly, he prepared to face the music. He couldn't hide away forever, he didn't even want to. He was filled with the overwhelming need to just _do_ something. Roy needed him.

With a newfound determination, Jason descended the stairs. He took the time to stop in the kitchen for a glass of water, wanting more than anything to rid himself of the acidic, residual taste of vomit. He was done with falling apart. As he passed the study, he could see that it was now dark inside, silent. Dinah must have left.

As he walked further through the manor, he heard soft voices coming from the sitting room. He couldn't make out everything but he could pick up enough to know that Bruce was filling Alfred in on what had happened. Jason pushed the door open and stepped inside. Immediately, the conversation ceased. Both men looked over at him with wide eyes, expressions sheepish and apprehensive.

“Jason,” Bruce recovered first, greeted him serenely. “All done with that homework, I see."

It was in that moment that Jason realized what was happening. Bruce's demeanour was warm and polite but there was a tightening around his eyes. He was praying that Jason would accept the change in topic, wouldn't press them on what they'd been talking about. _Bruce wasn't going to tell him._ It resonated in Jason's head like a gunshot. _Bruce never planned for him to know._

Righteous fury flooded every cell of Jason’s body. Roy was in danger. Roy could've died. Maybe Jason hadn't yet found the courage to tell Bruce about his recent self-discovery, maybe Bruce didn't know how irrevocably _in love_ he was, but he knew enough to know that Roy was important to him. And he still would have kept Jason in the dark.

“I heard you with Dinah,” Jason blurted, unable to contain it for a second longer.

His hands balled into fists and quaked at his sides. He felt the sting of tears but he didn't let them slip, couldn't afford to break now. He wasn't weak. He had to prove he was strong enough to handle this.

Bruce looked like he'd been struck. His lips moved but no sound came out as he tried and failed to come up with a explanation.

“Were you really not going to tell me?” He said, deathly quiet.

“Jason, this isn't what you need right now-" Bruce began.

“Don't tell me what I need!” Jason spat. “What I need is for Roy to be okay! To be safe! What I _need_ is for you to he honest with me!”

“It doesn't concern you. Dinah came to me for help. She said that Roy didn't want you to know.” Bruce said gently, trying to placate.

“Doesn't concern me?” Jason asked incredulously. He couldn't deny the quick, sharp pain in his chest at the knowledge that Roy wouldn't have told him either. But he didn't let it deter him. “He doesn't know what he wants! He doesn't know what's good for him!”

“Why? Because he's an addict?” Bruce suggested mildy. He gave Jason a pointed look.

Jason couldn't help but grit his teeth, but realized how condescending his words may have sounded. “That's not what I meant.”

“ _I_ know that. But will Roy?” Bruce said softly. “Jason, maybe he was afraid you'd judge him, turn away from him. After everything you've been through it would be understandable if you resented him for this. Or maybe, he just didn't want to hurt you, didn't want to force you to confront something so painful.”

“Well, he's wrong!” Jason refuted. “Bruce. Please, take me to him.” He begged.

“Jason...I think it's important that all choices made in his recovery are Roy's. I want to respect his wishes. You shouldn't be involved in this.” Bruce told him sternly.

Jason knew in that moment that Bruce wouldn't be swayed, couldn't be reasoned with. There was a torrent of emotions raging inside him, but Jason bit his tongue, lest he say something he would regret. But his eyes were hard as flint as he met his father's gaze. It hurt Bruce, that this had caused Jason to have a little less faith in him. But his decision was final. Knowing that Bruce wouldn't back down, Jason spun on his heel and stalked to his room. Neither Alfred or Bruce saw him for the remainder of the evening.

Later on, just past midnight, Bruce was still running over the confrontation in his mind. He stared morosely into the crackling flames in the hearth. Alfred came over and silently poured out a fifth of scotch for each of them, and sat down in the large leather seat at Bruce's side.

With a sigh Bruce brought the glass to his lips, but he paused before he took a sip. He studied the large portrait of himself and his parents that was mounted, pride of place, above the mantle.

“Do you think I was unfair? Too hard on him?” Bruce couldn't help but ask.

“Parenting,” Alfred shrugged a little, “It's a minefield, Master Wayne.”

Bruce catalogued Alfred’s knowing look and chuckled ever so lightly. He bolted the scotch and dropped the glass back onto the side table. Suddenly, a piercing scream cut through the house.

Bruce flew up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time in his haste to reach Jason. He burst through the bedroom door as the screams died down into pitiful whimpers. Jason was sprawled out, tangled in the sheets, still caught in sleep. Bruce cursed himself for not seeing this coming. He should've known the events of the day would trigger a nightmare, no matter how rare they had become.

Bruce approached the bed slowly, reached a hand out to tentatively shake Jason’s shoulder. Jason’s breath hitched in his sleep at the touch. “Jay, ssh.” Bruce tried to console.

Moving forward, Bruce perched on the mattress, shaking Jason a little more this time. Blearily, Jason blinked his eyes open, seemed to come back to himself enough to recognize Bruce. With a wet sniffle, he dragged himself across the bed, and curled around Bruce’s hip. With his head rested in Bruce's lap, Jason slowly calmed down. Cautiously, fondly, Bruce mussed up Jason's hair.

“Is Roy gonna be okay?” Jay asked, sounding impossibly small and frightened.

“We're gonna get him the best help we can,” Bruce promised.

“I-...I can't lose him.” Jason admitted in a whisper soft voice, his hands circled tightly into the fabric of Bruce’s shirt.

Jason had already lost so much in his young life. Bruce wished there were a way to guarantee that he would never have to lose a single thing more for as long as he lived. He knew that the vulnerability brought on by the nightmare was all that was allowing this closeness. In the morning, Jason would return to being mad at him. Bruce couldn't honestly say he didn't understand why. But for now, he did what he could to show Jason that he would always look out for him.

“I need to meet up with some associates tomorrow to discuss Roy's care. I-...What if you visit him while I do that? I can pick you up and speak with Dinah at the same time.” Bruce suggested.

It was a compromise. He couldn't guarantee that Roy would be happy to see Jason. But the cat was out of the bag now, and Jason needed any comfort he could get.

* * *

 

As predicted, the next morning Jason was distant, continued to give Bruce the cold shoulder. Any communication was monosyllabic, if he spoke at all.

There was an energy about him, a buzzing anxiety that Bruce knew was down to his eagerness to see Roy. Jason was trying to act like he was collected about this, as if he had something to prove. But Bruce could tell he was desperate, and that worried him.

Jason’s dependency on Roy would only get him hurt if Roy didn't return his affections. If Roy didn't want to see Jason throughout his recovery, if their friendship dissolved in the process, Bruce didn't know how he could possibly put Jason back together again. Losing Roy would be a devastating blow, and seeing him at his worst would only amplify Jason's pain.

Bruce still didn't think taking Jason to the Queen House was a good idea, if he'd had his way then Jason never would’ve known about this. Bruce was concerned that Roy would see it as a betrayal, and Roy's recovery hinged on him trusting Bruce and the people he recommended. It was too late for that now. Jason knew, despite everyone else's wishes. They couldn't insult him by acting like he was still in the dark.

Finally, Bruce got the confirmation call he'd been waiting for and was ready to head out. A brunch meeting seemed awfully laid-back for what was about to be discussed, he mused. He saw the way Jason’s face lit up when he asked if they were all ready to go. Bruce prayed that this would all work out in the end.

The car ride was awkward. Jason gazed unseeingly out of the window, refusing to engage with Bruce no matter how many times he attempted conversation. Bruce understood Jason’s anger. Even when they had first met, Jay had hated being treated like a child, being wrapped in cotton wool. It made him believe people thought of him as weak. Add on top of that the fact that Jason’s best friend’s life may very well hang in the balance, and of course he was resentful.

Bruce hoped that the damage wasn't irreparable. He had just wanted to keep Jason safe. He had just wanted to spare him the pain of going through all this again. Jason couldn't realistically do anything for Roy's recovery than offer moral support, and Jason’s own mental health and emotional state seemed like a steep price to pay in exchange. Bruce truly believed that Roy had known that too, and that's why he had made the decision he had. Jason didn't see it that way.

“Jay,” Bruce addressed gently as they rapidly approached the Queen estate. “You need to be prepared for what could happen when you get there. Roy is in a bad way, it's going to be hard to see him like that. Are you sure you're gonna be okay?”

Jason huffed and folded his arms tightly across his chest. His gaze didn't falter from the passing scenery.

“Okay,” Bruce sighed. “You also need to be prepared for the fact that Roy doesn't know you're coming, and he didn't want you to know about this. There's a big possibility that he won't want to see you.”

Jason’s eyes fluttered closed then. A pained expression flashed across his face for only a second before it was replaced by defensive anger.

“You don't have to baby me.” He grit out.

With how uncomfortable it had become between them, Bruce was grateful when they finally pulled up to the large gates of the Queen house. Wordlessly, Jason pushed open the door. He began to climb out and Bruce realized that Jason had no intention of saying goodbye.

“Jay,” he called, halting Jason’s exit.

He paused, the door wide open and his feet on the concrete outside. He didn't turn back to his father, but Bruce knew he was listening.

“I love you,” Bruce stated frankly. “And I won't apologize for doing what I felt was best for you. I can't.”

Bruce watched as Jason’s shoulders slumped. The tension drained from him and he took in a shaky breath. Without a word, he got out and closed the door. But he didn't slam it, so Bruce counted it as a win.

* * *

 

Jason steeled himself and took a deep breath before he raised a hand to knock at the door. He tried not to think too hard about what was to come. The mere concept that Roy would send him away was unbearable, Jason only hoped that Roy would give in once he realized the truth was known.

No matter how pure Roy's intentions may have been, whether he had been attempting to protect Jason or himself - it was a moot point now. He needed people around him who cared for him, who wanted to support him. Jason refused to be pushed out, to be denied the opportunity. The idea of Roy in pain caused hurt to flare up within Jason’s chest.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, the door opened, and for the first time Jason found himself face to face with Oliver Queen. The dark, cloying hatred swelled up inside him in an instant. His jaw clenched and his hands balled into fists. _You!_ was a booming echo in his mind. _You did this! You left him! You hurt him!_ The only thing keeping Jason from violence was the knowledge that if he threw a single punch Oliver would send him away, maybe even call the police, and then he'd never get to see Roy. His rage was barely constrained, but his heart was beating to a fast rhythm in tandem with his thoughts. _Roy. Roy. Roy._ A consistent mantra that kept him grounded, reminded him of what was important.

“Hello?” The man greeted, uncertain and confused by the stranger on his porch.

“Where's Roy?” Jason blurted. Not the best approach, given the circumstances, and unlikely to do him much good. He shouldn't just go around making demands like that, but he couldn't help It. He was _so close_ yet so far. He just wanted to see Roy, to touch him and know that he was warm and alive. He didn't have time for formalities.

“Excuse me?” Oliver retorted and Jason had to grit his teeth hard not to snap.

“Ollie? Who is it?” Dinah’s voice called from inside, and Jason breathed a sigh of relief.

The sound of heels clicking against the hardwood floor signalled Dinah’s arrival. At the sight of Jason her brow furrowed for a moment, but as she put the pieces together, Jason could see the sadness in her expression.

“Jason, you shouldn't be here.” She told him gently.

“Please,” Jason sucked in a breath. “I need to see him.”

She faltered for a moment, looking torn. Oliver just looked mystified. Then, Dinah sighed but set her jaw as she met Jason’s eyes.

“I don't think it's a good idea.” She stated.

“I'm not leaving until I see h-" Jason began to demand, before he was cut off abruptly by Oliver.

“Now listen here you little-" Oliver broke off then. He and Jason glowered at each other.

The tension was rolling off of Jason in waves. Cold, hard fury was flashing in his eyes as he stared Oliver down. Neither of them flinched. Oliver should have counted himself lucky he wasn't already on his ass, Jason mused.

“Okay, alright, that's enough!” Dinah cried, forcing her way between them.

She shared a meaningful look with Oliver, who’s postured relaxed as a result. He turned around and headed back inside. With a deep breath, Dinah turned to Jason. “He's in his room,” she told him quietly.

Every nerve in Jason’s body was thrumming with anticipation. His stomach was churning with all the endless scenarios that could play out the second he walked through the bedroom door. He tried to take measured breaths, compose himself. He knew that Roy would be deep in his withdrawal, probably even out of his mind with need and cravings. There was no guarantee he would be anywhere near lucid enough to care about Jason’s presence, to care about anything beyond the need for a fix. It took all the courage that he could muster, but Jason pushed open the door.

The room was dimly lit and unkempt. It even smelt bad. Roy was restless on the bed, caught between sleep and wakefulness. The sheets were tangled around his legs. His skin was slick, his hair was greasy, and he'd sweat through the mattress. Jason couldn't stop the immediate and unforgiving sting of tears.

Cautiously, he moved towards the bed. Roy showed no indication that he even knew he was there. Upon closer inspection, Jason could see the deep bruising to Roy's face, now yellowing in some areas. He wished he’d wiped the floor with Oliver when he’d had the chance. A tear slid down his face before he could stop it, quickly followed by another and another until he was a wreck.

“Roy?” He said, but received no response. Though he could see Roy was awake, staring unseeingly at the ceiling and huffing out panting breaths.

He reached a hand out to brush back Roy’s hair. Abruptly, Roy's arm shot up and he roughly grasped Jason's wrist and held tight. He turned desperate, wild eyes to lock their gazes.

“Please,” He murmured, his voice sounded raw. “Please. Need- need it.” He begged, getting louder, more insistent. “Need it. Need it. Please. Can’t. Please.”

Jason pressed his lips together tightly, but couldn't hold back the sob. Roy didn't even recognize him, so out of his mind with desperate withdrawal. The tears that had been flowing since he'd first entered the room were now accompanied by hitching breaths and wracking sobs. He felt like he would shake apart with it. He pulled his arm free of Roy's grip and gathered Roy's hand in both of his. He half climbed onto the bed beside Roy so he could hover over him, look him in the face.

“You-" he started, but couldn't keep his voice steady. His shoulders shook with every broken sob. “You're not gonna touch that shit again, you hear me?” Jason cried, begged. “You can't- You're not-" A keening sound came from his throat as his words cut off.

For a second, Jason watched Roy's brow furrow as if in concentration. His tears continued to obscure his vision and he wiped furiously at them with one hand, the other still wrapped around Roy’s. “I’'ll kill you,” he whimpered.

“Jay?” Roy breathed in wonder, blinking blearily up at the other boy.

“If you touch that shit again, I swear I’ll kill you.” Jason bawled, his words carried no weight, completely undermined when they came from someone so devastated.

Roy reached his free hand up to gently caress the curve of Jason's jaw. He stared up at him as if in amazement, as if afraid he'd disappear.

“Jay,” he said, more sure this time. “You’d...You’d never hurt me.” He murmured.

Jason let out a hiccuping sob as he clutched Roy's hand to his chest. He shook his head as more tears fell.

“No.” He swore. “Never.”

 _You're my whole world,_ he wanted to say. _You're my whole world._

With a gentle tug, Roy propelled Jason forward. Until suddenly Jay was laid out along Roy's side, his head resting over the older boy’s heart. For a few minutes they just listened to each other breathe, until Jason cried himself out. One of Jason's hands came up to twine in the fabric of Roy’s t-shirt. Roy sighed.

“You shouldn't be here.” Roy said then, seemingly a lot more aware. “I didn't want you to know.”

“I know,” Jason replied softly. “You shoulda known I’d be here, though. You shoulda never tried to keep it from me.”

Roy cradled the back of Jason's head in one palm, dragged his fingertips through thick black hair. He was surprised that Jay was here, that he had come to him in his time of need despite everything that he had done. He didn't deserve this comfort. Jason was too good, deserved so much better, so much more.

“Bruce is gonna find you help,” Jason whispered, his face still pressed against Roy's chest.

“Yeah,” Roy said softly, never stopping the gentle movement of his hand in Jason’s hair. “Dinah said she went to him.”

“I’m glad she did.” Jason replied.

He eased off of Roy a little bit, and propped himself up on his elbow to look into Roy's face. Looking back, he and Roy had always been physically affectionate in ways that sometimes bordered on being something other than platonic. Jason had grown to relish those touches. Roy was looking at him with a gaze so soft, Jay could feel it down to his toes. He was looking at Jason like he hung the moon. And Jason felt tears well up once again. He was so sick of crying.

With a steadying breath, Jason brought up one knee slightly, he moulded himself to the grooves of Roy's flank and slung one leg over to twine between both of Roy’s. Roy pressed a kiss to Jason’s forehead.

“What're you doing?” Roy murmured as Jason pulled back slightly to look at him. Roy couldn't decipher what he saw in his eyes.

“Something we should've done a long time ago.” Jason whispered as he leant in closer.

Before Roy could begin to process what that meant, Jason’s lips were on his. It was soft and warm and comforting. Roy had thought about kissing Jason so many times, and he'd never imagined it happening like this. But he wound his hand into the hair at the nape of Jason’s neck and gave as good as he got. Jason gave a contented little sigh then and Roy realized that he couldn't possibly love him more.

But then he remembered why he’d held off on acting on his feelings for so long. He closed his eyes against all his doubts. He was drenched with sweat, weighed down by exhaustion. He'd thrown up more times than he could count in the last few days alone. This wasn't how their first kiss was supposed to be. Jason would always deserve better than him.

“Jay- I,” he broke off as Jason kissed him again, and again, small chaste pecks in quick succession. “Jay,”

“What?” Jason huffed, a little impatient, but his eyes sparkled.

“I-...I’m gross.” He said flatly.

“I don't care,” Jason replied breezily, before sinking in for more soft kisses.

Jason pulled back then, and rubbed the tips of their noses together gently. His eyes looked wet, whether from the many tears he'd already shed or from new ones, Roy couldn't tell. Without a word, Jason ducked his head down to tuck under Roy's chin. Roy's arms came up to hold him tight. Maybe for now, he could let himself have this.

That's how Dinah found them, more than an hour later. She knocked the door loudly, and despite knowing that they would be caught, neither boy could find it in them to move. So when Dinah saw them tangled in each other, it surprised them both that she didn't seem shocked at all. She only smiled softly.

“Jason,” she addressed. “Bruce is here. He says it's time to go.”

“No,” Jason murmured, trying to worm even closer to Roy.

Dinah only smiled indulgently. “Good news. He also found a placement for you, Roy. They're gonna give you the help you need. You start tomorrow.”

Jason stiffened then. He wanted Roy to get help, of course he did, but he also didn't want to be without him. Residential rehab meant supervised visitation hours. As soon as he thought it, he felt guilty. He couldn't make this about him.

“That’s great, D.” Roy answered, somewhat sleepily. “Tell him thank you.”

“I will,” Dinah promised. “And Jason? I can stall him for 10 minutes. That's all you get.” She dropped a wink before leaving the room.

Jason rolled over then, offering Roy a soft smile. “You're gonna be okay. They're gonna make you better.”

Roy closed his eyes and tilted his head back. He looked so worn down. Jason couldn't wait to see him so full of life again. Jason stretched up to press a kiss to the underside of Roy's chin.

“Can I-...Can I come with you? Tomorrow? When they drop you off?” Jason asked cautiously.

Roy sighed a little. “Jay, I'm not letting you skip school for me. Besides it's probably gonna be boring as hell. Ollie’s gonna have a fuck ton of forms to sign. No one wants to hang around for that.”

Jason pouted, peering up at Roy. Roy chuckled and squeezed Jason tighter for a moment. “I mean it. No. Go to school, go be a brainiac. I promise you're gonna be the first name on my visitors list, alright?”

Jason sighed but conceded. He reluctantly dragged himself off of the bed and away from the warmth of the body in it. He bent back down to press a sweet kiss to the crease of Roy's lips. “For luck,” he breathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 updates in one month! What?!  
> Anywho I'm super nervous about this one and I really don't know how I feel about it now that it's done but whatcha gonna do!  
> It's my birthday next week and my nephew turns one the following week. There's a lot of shit going on and I can't guarantee the next chapter will be as prompt as the last few have been.  
> Lemme know what you think!


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys may have noticed the change in chapter number.  
> basically, because it's been so long since i first started this fic, my writing style has changed slightly (i hope for the better)  
> so i went back to tweak some of the earlier chapters. there are some additional paragraphs, a few more in depth descriptions, and i rearranged some chapters slightly in terms of formatting. whilst doing that i also combined some shorter chapters together. the story more or less reads the same though, i'm just hoping my writing style will be more consistent and cohesive with these tweaks in place.  
> once again, you can request time stamps for the verse over on tumblr @ oathkeptroxas

_“The needle tears a hole, t_ _he old familiar sting._

_I tried to kill it all away,_ _But I remember everything._

 _What have I become,_ _My sweetest friend?_

 _Everyone I know,_ _Goes away, In the end._

 _And you could have it all,_ _My empire of dirt._

 _I will let you down._ _I will make you hurt.”_

**‘Hurt’ - Johnny Cash.**

 

* * *

 

It was Hell. It was another night of fitful, restless sleep. The brand new sheets did little to bring Roy comfort, he sweat through them in no time, and it made him wonder why Dinah had bothered changing them in the first place. Now he’d simply ruined two lots of bed covers, surely they’d have to be burned. He was caught between so many different sensations: the nausea, the painful cramps that rolled through him, the cold sweats and the panting breaths, but above all? The relentless thrumming, all-consuming _need_ for a fix. He had never hated himself more.

 

Now, there was no use in denying that he was a slave to it. He’d spent so long trying to insist that it was just fun, just recreational, that it wasn’t a big deal. He’d never contemplated actually quitting before because he’d refused to even think the word ‘addiction’. But now that he was in the throes of withdrawal, he had no option but to face his painful, jarring reality.

 

It wasn’t particularly late, but Roy had figured that he could use as much sleep as he could get for what was to come the next morning. Though sleep certainly did not come easy to him these days, he wasn’t above trying. Then, his phone buzzed on the bedside table and he reached for it eagerly, anything to distract him from the pain.

 

 **[Text: Jason]:** everything will be okay! Goodnight x

 

Roy sighed as he dropped the phone onto the mattress beside him. He wished he could share in Jason’s optimism, but if he were being honest with himself, he couldn't see a way for this to all turn out okay. He worried that Jason was being naive in his belief that things would all be fine in the end. It wasn't that easy. Though Roy knew that Jason had prior experience with situations like this, that only made Roy more cautious, more unsure. How much of Jason's feelings were projection? How much was wishful thinking on his part? Was Jason so haunted by what had happened to his mother that he was desperate for a different outcome this time, and had convinced himself it would come regardless of anything else?

 

Roy couldn't make any promises. There were no guarantees in life. He had never done well with expectation, and the weight of everything that Jason had gone through threatened to suffocate him. He tried not to think about it. It would do him no good to dwell. He had to focus on his recovery for himself, push his thoughts and feelings for Jason to one side. He couldn't afford to go into this for the wrong reasons, with the wrong motivations.

 

But it was so hard to seperate what he wanted for himself and what he wanted for Jason. Especially because there was no denying now that Jason was what he wanted. But that wasn't healthy. Jason wasn't a prize, a reward for recovery.

 

Roy would always be an addict. It was a part of him now. Even if he never touched a single substance ever again, he would always know what it felt like. He would always crave some sort of high, would know intimately that sense of euphoria that never came without a price. A part of him would always want it. He wasn't naive enough to think otherwise. It would be an ongoing battle for the rest of his life.

 

Did Jason understand that? Did he know there would likely be days where Roy was overcome with cravings, and _desperate_? Could Roy really allow Jason to go through that? To relive the traumas of his childhood everytime Roy had a moment of weakness? Would it be worth it? It didn't seem very fair.

 

Though Roy hated himself for the thought, he had to consider that Jason hadn't actually been around a recovering addict. He had been young when his mother had died, and he hadn't even known at the time what she had been going through. Though Roy knew that Jason was intelligent and most likely knew there was no quick fix for this, _knowing_ something in theory and then _seeing and experiencing_ it in practise were very different things. There was no happily ever after to this.

 

No matter how much they both may have wished otherwise, this wasn't some grand love story. Real life didn't happen like that. If Roy wanted to get the most of his recovery, he needed to remember that. But the more he tried to think beyond his feelings for Jason, the more difficult it became. Roy had been in denial of many things over the prior months, and now was the time to come clean. He could admit now that he loved Jason. He couldn’t think of a single way that it could possibly work out, but that didn’t make it any less real.

 

He was already awake when Dinah knocked on the bedroom door. He dragged himself out of bed and tried his best to scrub the grime away as he showered. The water felt heavenly on his tired muscles, and the haze in his head cleared a little too. Despite freshening up more so than he had in days - he wanted to look as presentable as was possible - he still felt groggy. He haphazardly forced things into a duffle bag, not knowing exactly what he would need to take with him. He glanced down at his phone, would he be allowed it? Was it worth taking it? He didn’t know the first thing about rehabilitation centers.

A part of him wanted to stall for time. For so long his days had followed a routine, and though that lifestyle had been chipping away at him bit by bit, he didn’t know how to change. The idea of the unknown was always daunting. He knew that he would have to detail the events that had led to this, he would have to open up to some stranger. What if he did everything by the book and he still failed to recover?

 

He knew that inpatient rehab would be the best for him. Being surrounded by all the reminders of what he’d done, in this big house that felt so empty and only brought on feelings of loneliness, would be the opposite of helpful. Not to mention, maybe it would be for the best if he weren’t around Oliver or Dinah for a while, he couldn’t handle their guilt, the stilted and forced conversations. How was he ever supposed to work to better himself if he was so focused on the feelings of others?

 

“Hey.” Roy startled at the sound of Dinah’s voice. He turned to find her leaning against the door frame. “Are you all ready to go?”

 

Roy tried to smile at her, but he knew it looked shaky. Dinah’s eyes were misty, and Roy couldn’t handle the sight. He turned away. “Yeah, I think I’m good.”

 

“Okay,” She sighed, before she stepped forward to grasp his shoulder. “When we get there, they’re going to have to talk to you, Oliver’s going to have to fill in a lot of documentation. I’m not entirely sure how long it will take to get through, but once everything’s filed, you can start right away. We may not be able to see you for a few weeks. Visitor rules are subject to change, and depend on the patient’s recovery.” She looked sad as she explained.

 

Though Roy knew she didn’t mean it the way it sounded, he couldn’t help but feel an added pressure in knowing he wouldn’t be allowed to see them until he’d reached a specific milestone. “What-...How do you mean?” He found himself asking. A part of him wasn’t sure he even wanted to know.

 

“Bruce brought over some booklets,” She ran a hand through his hair gently, as though he were a small child. Roy would have once resented that, but now he just found it comforting. “It’s a luxury rehab, for high-profile patients. Everything is the best quality, and it’s outside the city, a lot more private. They have a policy that says patients aren’t allowed visitors until they’ve successfully completed detox and have actually began the programme. But, even then it depends on what the doctors say they think is best for you.”

 

 _Patients_. She kept saying it as though it were a normal hospital. Like he had some illness. Was she in denial? Or trying to make it easier on him? He wasn’t a patient. He was an addict. Cloaking it in something else wouldn’t make it less true. Wasn’t the first step to overcoming something admitting that there was a problem? He was a junkie. There was no getting around that, not anymore.

 

A part of him was relieved to know that he wouldn’t initially be allowed visitors. He had spent so much time destroying himself in an effort to not feel alone. Maybe surrounding himself with like-minded people, people who shared in his suffering, learning their stories and their reasons, would give him some perspective. Meeting other people who were on this journey with him was a sure fire way of assuring him that he wasn’t alone after all. No matter how much Oliver or Dinah, or even Jason, cared they could never comprehend what he was going through. Spending time away from them to clear his head and get down to the bare bones of his problems, sounded promising.

 

Roy’s phone buzzed then, and he snatched it up quickly. He had never replied to Jason’s text last night, but he had been so consumed by his thoughts he hadn’t even known what to say. He trusted that Jason would understand that, or maybe even think that Roy had already been asleep when it was sent. It wasn’t surprising that the text that came through was also from Jason. It wasn’t like Roy had any other friends now.

 

 **[text:Jason]:** good luck! Lemme know when i can come see you  <3

 

Roy smiled despite himself. A part of him was so happy that Jason seemed to care so much about him. Jason and Dinah were the only people in Roy’s life who had never left him or let him down. Dinah only knew him because of her relationship with Oliver, and there was a certain obligation that came with that. Though Roy knew that Dinah loved him and had done nothing for him to question that, he still felt her affection was tainted slightly by the fact she was in his life by association. Jason had continued to be Roy’s friend far beyond his tutoring obligations. Jason had always encouraged him, from the very beginning. Jason had never wanted or expected him to ever be anyone but himself.

 

He couldn’t help but think back to the previous evening, to the warm weight of Jason’s head on his chest, the softness of his hair between Roy’s fingers. Roy had kissed dozens of people, boys and girls, drunk and sober. Roy had indulged in physical intimacies far beyond a few kisses. But, Jason had sighed so sweetly. His eyes had flickered with such longing as he pressed their mouths together. When Roy relented, gave himself over to the kiss and took control, Jason had opened up, growing pliant and gentle under Roy’s hands. It had felt right, and though Roy chastised himself for the thought, for how tacky and naive it seemed, he couldn’t deny the fact that the kiss felt inevitable. It was like they were always supposed to end up there.

 

 **[text:Roy]:** i will

 

“Jason?” Dinah inquired knowingly, a soft smile graced her lips.

 

“Yeah,” Roy said softly.

 

 **[text:Roy]:** x

 

“We really should get going soon,” Dinah told him gently. “Come down when you’re ready.”

 

Roy watched her walk away and close the door behind her. He gazed around the room that he’d called his own for so long. The posters that adorned the walls stared back at him, and he found he really was going to miss this place. He didn’t know how long it would be before he could return, but he did know - or at least hoped - that he would be a different person when he did. So much needed to change, and it was overwhelming to think about. All the hurdles he had to overcome seemed gargantuan, but he knew it was time to take the next step. He shouldered his bag, and left the room.

 

When he got to the foot of the stairs, Oliver was stood there, with the car keys in his hand. He looked ill-at-ease, unsure of himself in a way that Roy had never seen him before. Despite what Roy had experienced over the previous days, and despite the way everything merged together in a haze of pain and exhaustion, even he could tell that Oliver and Dinah weren’t the same with each other. He thought he’d heard raised voices from somewhere in the manor on more than one occasion, he could sense the tension whenever he spoke to either of them. He hoped he hadn’t caused any rift between them, they didn’t exactly have a conventional relationship, but they loved each other. He hoped that they could work it out.

 

Oliver met his eyes after a moment and tried for a smile. He reached an arm out and Roy couldn’t help the instinctive flinch the movement caused. Oliver looked stricken for a second, before he cautiously patted Roy’s shoulder, and telegraphed his movements as he did so. Roy furrowed his brow a little.

 

“I-...I’m so sorry, kiddo.” Oliver told him softly. “I still don’t understand...I mean, I don’t know exactly what happened to get to this point, but...I should’ve been around more.”

 

Roy wondered how much of this was genuine self-reflection on Oliver’s part, and how much of it Dinah had had to instill in him. But he sounded sincere enough, and he did look remorseful. Roy sighed a little, unsure of what he was supposed to say in a situation like this. There was no changing what had already happened, they could only hope to move forward. Hanging on to resentment would only hinder him in the long run.

 

Roy stepped forward hesitantly and gave Oliver a quick, light hug. For all of his faults, Oliver had taken him in when nobody else would. Oliver provided for him in the only ways that he knew how, and maybe Roy had needed more than a materialistic lifestyle and a fancy roof over his head, but it was the only thing that Oliver had ever known. Oliver had only treated Roy the way his own parents had treated him. Maybe this would allow Oliver to reevaluate his own upbringing, become more in touch with his own feelings and how to express them productively.

 

* * *

 

The drive to the facility was quiet. Dinah sat in the passenger seat flicking through the various booklets and pamphlets that Bruce had provided, occasionally she made an offhand comment. She had asked Roy if he was interested in looking through them, but it was already daunting enough to know where he was headed. He didn’t think he could handle any more information about the place, or what would be expected of him when he got there. He knew that it might have given him peace of mind, but he just couldn’t think about it anymore. He tried to admire the scenery as they passed, and not dwell on what was to come.

 

The building was located quite a way outside of the city, tucked away behind thick woodland, with grand, open garden areas. It looked like a normal house, belonging to any other rich family. Roy briefly wondered if any celebrities had stayed there. It was a luxury rehab after all, they were designed for celebrity types to get themselves on the straight and narrow out of the prying eyes of the media. Once again, Roy was grateful for Oliver’s fortune. Any modicum of luxury was bound to make this experience just that little bit more bearable. He knew that there was hard work ahead, at least if this was a nice place to stay, it would be easier to stay committed.

 

Inside was decorated just as nice. It was grand and open plan, all painted in pale and neutral colours, there were large bay windows that let in a lot of natural light. Roy raised a brow appreciatively as he perused the space. There was definitely a sense of tranquility about it. It had clearly been purposely decorated to invite feelings of calm. He glanced back to see Dinah and Oliver surveying the room too, looking equally impressed.

 

They were greeted by a woman who introduced herself as Dr. Roquette. At a guess, Roy would say she was perhaps a few years older than Dinah. She gave him a friendly smile.

 

“You must be Roy,” She extended a hand. “Mr Wayne explained a little about your situation to me.”

 

“I-...uh, yeah.” He took her hand in his for a firm shake.

 

She gave him another smile before turning to share hand shakes with both Oliver and Dinah in turn. She led them to a common room, and invited Oliver and Dinah to sit on a small sofa. Before them, on an oak coffee table, there was a folder of papers and forms.

 

“If you’re all ready to get started, I’d like Roy to come with me for a few minutes. I’m just going to ask some questions so that we can determine the right approach to take for your recovery.” She smiled encouragingly at him, and Roy tried not to show how nervous he was. She turned to Oliver and Dinah then instead. “If you would like to start filling out the forms while I do my assessment, that would be very helpful. Most of it should be self-explanatory, but if you have any questions about anything, leave that segment blank and we’ll discuss it when I get back.”

 

Oliver nodded, and Dinah murmured her thanks. Roy placed his bag down on the floor beside the arm of the sofa. Dinah took hold of his wrist gently. He tried to smile for her.

 

“Everything’s gonna be okay. Alright?” She told him.

 

Roy followed Dr. Roquette down the hall to a secluded office. It had the same colour scheme as the main foyer and common area, all light beiges and sandy colours, with white and gold detailings. She sat behind a large desk, and took a notebook out of the top drawer.

 

“Please, have a seat. There’s no need to be nervous.”

 

Roy cleared his throat as he sat down. The chair was blessedly comfortable. After spending nearly a week cooped up and largely in pain, Roy found that even the small amount of activity he’d done so far had made him feel worn down. He took a deep, calming breath.

 

“I guess I’m just a little...confused. I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do or say.” Roy explained.

 

“That’s to be expected,” she reassured. “This is just a quick, informal assessment. I’ll just ask a few questions about your experiences, then I’ll use that information to confer with other doctors. We’ll then determine a plan for how to proceed. Every patient has a specifically tailored recovery plan. The length of your stay and the kind of activities you’ll participate in will vary depending on what you tell me.”

 

Over the next ten to fifteen moments, Dr. Roquette asked Roy about the ins and outs of his addiction. She seemed impartial for the most part, but she did frown noticeably when Roy explained the detox he’d been experiencing. She made a few comments here and there, usually to specifically coax for more information, or when she could tell Roy was feeling uneasy. Roy explained the circumstances of his childhood, of how he’d come to be in Oliver’s care. He told her of the peer pressure and the band, and the chain of events that had ultimately led to Chuck’s death. She looked sad, and her eyes shone with sympathy for him as she dutifully took notes.

 

“Well, the good news is that your detox shouldn’t take much longer. It’s fortunate that you haven’t been abusing substances for that long comparative to many other patients. You should be proud of yourself for getting help before things could get worse.” She closed her note book and tucked her pen behind her ear. “It seems largely that your drug use stems from social pressures. Cultural shock from the upheaval of your life could be a contributing factor. Emotional neglect and feelings of loneliness also seem to play a role. Believe it or not, this is good. It means that with the root causes identified we can address and overcome them a lot more directly.”

 

“What does that mean for my time here?” Roy asked.

 

“Well, I can’t say for certain until I confer with my colleagues. But due to you still being a minor, and the fact that your addiction is largely the result of the people in your life and the influence they have on you, I’d think it would be best for you to complete your recovery as an inpatient. Outside influences may become a hindrance. You’re probably looking at a 12 week stay.” She informed him.

 

Roy felt a lump forming in his throat. His phone burned a hole in his pocket. “What-...What about visitors?”

 

She gave him a long look. Roy hoped that what he saw in her gaze wasn’t pity. “We’ll have to discuss that at a later date. But, at least for the first few weeks, I don’t think it would be a very good idea. It may prove detrimental to your care.”

 

With that she stood from the desk, and gestured to the door. She led Roy back to where Oliver and Dinah were waiting. Roy stared down at the ground, watching his feet drag against the tile. He couldn’t help but feel dejected and isolated. Once they were stood in front of the coffee table, Dr. Roquette gathered together the now completed paperwork.

 

“Are you aware of the risks involved with an addict experiencing detox without appropriate professional care and supervision?” She stated bluntly, her gaze flickering between Oliver and Dinah intensely.

 

“I-...We-” Dinah broke off.

 

“No, we had no idea how to help. We should’ve reached out sooner.” Oliver admitted. Roy looked at him in surprise. Oliver was usually far too bullheaded to admit he was at fault, especially right off the bat like that.

 

“Hmm.” Dr. Roquette responded, but she didn’t seem as forward and friendly as she had been with Roy. “Ideally, a doctor should be consulted and a maintenance option is given.”

 

“Maintenance option?” Dinah inquired.

 

“A doctor can prescribe a different, safer form of opiate that can be administered in monitored doses. It makes the detox more gradual, and the cravings are managed.” She elaborated.

 

There was a part of Roy that hoped he’d be given the choice. He needed a fix so bad. He’d do anything, take anything to just feel that high again. He hated himself for the thought, but after days of suffering he was beyond logic. The knowledge that an easier alternative had been available the whole time caused his jaw to clench.

 

“Luckily, with Roy’s use of heroin only dating back a few months, there wasn’t as much in his system as we usually have to contend with. His detox shouldn’t take as long as a result.” She informed them further. “There would be no point in beginning a maintenance process at this late stage, with his detox already well underway, perhaps even nearing completion. But, not seeking medical help could’ve been fatal if his dependency had been any worse.”

 

“We didn’t know, we really didn’t.” Dinah insisted, looking stricken.

 

“I understand,” Dr. Roquette assured. “I only wanted you to know so that I can emphasize the importance of seeking professional help. Never hesitate when it comes to somebody’s wellbeing.”

 

With that, Dr. Roquette gave them a few minutes to say their goodbyes. She told them she would take the information she’d gathered to the main office to be filed. Oliver and Dinah had to be ready to leave upon her return. Roy watched her walk away. His chest felt tight, and the lump in his throat resurfaced as he thought about the coming weeks. He didn’t know for certain how long it would be before he saw Oliver or Dinah again, he wasn’t sure yet the amount of communication he would be allowed to have with them at all. His hands began to tremble.

 

“Roy,” Dinah whispered. He turned to see tears in her eyes. “It’s gonna be okay, you’re gonna get better.” She tugged him forward to hug him tightly.

 

Roy could feel the sting of tears in the back of his eyes, but he couldn’t cry, didn’t want to fall apart now. He had to be strong. At least until they couldn’t see him, he had to hold it together. He returned the embrace, and made eye contact with Oliver over Dinah’s shoulder. Oliver gave him a reassuring smile and Roy found it harder to hold his tears at bay.

 

“I’ll be fine,” he murmured, but he wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince them, or himself.

 

* * *

 

 

The next week seemed to both fly by and drag. He still had bouts of shakes and sickness, but for the most part he felt a lot better. His private room was large and luxurious, the bed was big and soft and he was able to catch up on some of the sleep he’d lost. The large windows let in the light of the winter sun, and with the latch off, the crisp, almost icy breeze was refreshing and grounding. The only real downside was the fact he wasn’t allowed his phone during detox. It had been explained to him that since detox was a crucial period, and the need for a fix would be at its most unbearable during that time, they couldn’t allow patients to have any contact with anyone from the outside, incase they tried to purchase drugs or discuss plans to begin using again. Despite the lost feeling that came with being isolated from the people he knew, Roy was doing okay for the most part. The other patients he had spoken to, though often older than himself, were pleasant enough, though usually reclusive.

 

He saw Dr. Roquette every day to discuss how he felt. She had taken a personal interest in his case, and with a doctorate in child psychology, she had been appointed as his therapist. Together, they began to dissect each and every one of his issues one at a time. He still had doubts. There were a lot of very difficult and self-destructive feelings that he still needed to process. It was a mindset that would take some time to overcome. But overall, Roy wasn’t finding the whole experience as bad as he’d first feared. It was a full two weeks since his last fix, over a week since he’d last seen Jason, when Dr. Roquette told him that he had completed his detox and could begin to actively participate in the services that the center offered. Roy had been waiting for that exact update, knowing that it would be the opportune time to ask about visitors, or at least phone privileges.

 

“So, what activities are there?” He asked.

 

“Well, you’ll begin group therapy twice a week. You can hear whatever the other patients would like to share and perhaps learn from their experiences,” she began. “Then, we encourage patients to dabble in any number of recreational activities. It’s been proven that productive hobbies can be very helpful in recovery, and the satisfaction of creating something can be its own form of high. There are a wide range of things to choose from: gardening, art and painting, cooking, music, sport.”

 

Roy pondered that for a moment. His knee-jerk reaction was to go straight for music, but he doubted that would work out for the best. He would always love music. He would always wish things had turned out differently, wished he would have pursued it more seriously. But, it was too soon to think about going back to music. He couldn’t divorce his love of drumming from his addiction. They’d gone hand in hand for too long. He would have to consider his options more thoroughly before settling on a new hobby.

 

“What about visitors?” He asked cautiously, hoping beyond hope that he would hear what he wanted to.

 

“Yes, well...I’ve been in contact with your guardian. He provided a list of names of people who wish to visit, who he has granted permission to do so. Of course, ultimately it’s your decision about who is welcome. Everyone he named has been checked and approved.” She handed him a print out.

 

He took the paper in shaking hands, scanned down the list of names.  

 

**Oliver Queen**

**Dinah Lance**

**Jason Todd**

**Bruce Wayne**

**Hal Jordan**

 

Roy took a deep breath. He found that he missed them all, which surprised him. But more than anything, he missed Jason so much it hurt. Seeing his name there, knowing that he was so close to seeing him again, caused a warm, stinging sensation to spread through Roy’s chest.

 

“And my phone?” He asked after a moment to compose himself.

 

“You can have it back, but there are stipulations. Internet access is limited and heavily monitored. Social media platforms are prohibited. You can only contact people who are approved visitors, or you can put forward names of other people you wish to contact so that they can be accessed and approved.”

 

The terms seemed more than reasonable. Roy didn’t have anybody outside of his visitors to contact anyway, and he wasn’t a big user of social media. As she held his phone out to him, it took all his will power not to snatch it from her hand in his eagerness to have it back. When he finally turned it on, it took a while for all the notifications to come through. There was a morning text from Jason for every day they’d been apart. _Why are you so fucking cute?_ He felt like responding, but ultimately decided against it.

 

* * *

 

 

Jason had decided that maybe he didn’t like school so much after all. Going back there without Roy was Hell. All of the other students that Jason had once been so polite with, now did nothing but irritate him. He couldn’t go back to such false niceties, not after knowing true friendship, not after Roy. He had more secrets to hold at bay now than ever before, and he knew they would all pounce at the first sign of weakness, eager for the next piece of juicy gossip. It made him feel a little sick.

 

Of course, the other students had noticed the way that Jason and Roy had been wrapped up in each other in the previous months. There were bound to have been rumours, but Jason didn’t care enough to listen to them. If the other kids felt like Jason had shunned them in favour of hanging around with Roy, that was their problem. Just because Bruce knew their parents, that didn’t automatically make _them_ Jason’s friends. Jason actually felt sorry for the other students, their definition of friendship was narrow and superficial, and revolved entirely around the fact their parents were friends, and they’d never had an option. They had been affronted by the fact that Jason hadn’t followed in this way of thinking, and hadn’t seemed to want to join their clique. At first they thought that was just the way Jason was, and they let him get away with being civil and courteous at best. But then Roy Harper had come along, and Jason had shown them all that he was capable of friendship after all, he just hadn’t wanted theirs.

 

For days now Jason had heard whispers. There was some sort of buzz travelling through the student body that he wasn’t privy to. He’d have to have been an idiot to not pick up on the way silence reigned whenever he walked into a room, the way that people side-eyed him in the corridors. He tightened his hold on his bag and kept walking, hoping beyond hope that he was just being paranoid, that the weight of keeping so much hidden was just getting the better of him.

 

“Hey, Jason,” A boy called.

 

Jason turned at the sound of his name, and though the other student’s face looked familiar, he couldn’t recall a name. He was one of the high-society types, for sure. There was a small group gathered a few feet behind him, like his own little entourage. Jason almost rolled his eyes. Studying the boy’s face a little longer, Jason was sure he’d seen him at a gala or two he’d attended with Bruce.

 

“Yeah?” Jason prompted when the other student didn’t continue.

 

“You wanna grab something to eat with us after school?” The boy asked, but there was a nasty sneer to his voice. His lips were curved into an arrogant smirk, and as the group behind them giggled quietly, a feeling of dread sunk deep in Jason’s stomach.

 

“Nah, I think I’ll pass,” Jason breathed. He wanted this entire exchange to end. Whatever this guy was playing at, Jason wasn’t interested. It was when the boy’s eyes lit up that Jason realized he’d made a mistake. The other students had known he’d refuse, had been banking on it in fact. That was when the blow came.

 

“What? Why not? I mean,” The boy paused, as though for emphasis, “Don’t you need new friends now that your junkie boyfriend is gone?”

 

Every cell in Jason’s body locked up tight. His fists clenched so tightly it was painful. He was shaking with all-consuming rage, and no matter how many slow breaths he took in, he couldn’t reign it in. “What did you say?” He growled through gritted teeth.

 

“You heard me,” the guy taunted, oblivious to what was to come.

 

Without thought, without processing anything at all, it happened. One minute Jason was stood there glaring, barely keeping himself at bay. And the next he was straddling the boy’s chest, bruising his knuckles against the boy’s face. “Shut your _fucking_ mouth,” He snarled, almost feral.

 

The shock must have worn off, because the other student’s arm swung up, delivering one, two hits to Jason’s face in retaliation. Jason raised his fist again, but was stopped short by Mr. Wilson grabbing a hold of his wrist, pulling him away from the bloodied boy on the ground.

 

“That’s enough!” Mr. Wilson yelled. Jason couldn’t resist spitting at the other student as he was dragged away from him.

 

As the red haze of fury began to clear, Jason was pushed into a chair in Mr. Wilson’s office.

 

“This school does not tolerate violence! What has gotten into you, Mr. Todd?” The principal demanded.

 

“He started it,” Jason muttered petulantly.

 

“Yet, witnesses claim you threw the first punch.”

 

“He provoked me!” Jason tried to insist.

 

“So you respond with violence?” Mr. Wilson’s brow raised. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Normally, an incident of this magnitude would be an automatic expulsion. But given this is your first infraction and your guardian informed me of current circumstances, I’ll let it slide with a one week suspension. This is a mercy, Jason.”

 

* * *

 

To say that Bruce was angry, would be an understatement. Though Jason hated the idea that he had let down his father, he couldn’t be sorry he’d done it. He’d do it again.

 

For a long time, Jason contemplated ways in which the other students could have possibly known about Roy. He knew that word travelled fast around the school in general, and that most of the high society kids knew all of the gossip going around even in the adult circles. As long as one child overheard a parent, then no secret was sacred. Bruce had certainly made a lot of calls about Roy’s care. He’d also informed the school. Whether it had been a parent or a school faculty member, somebody had been overheard and now it was spreading like wildfire. Jason didn’t know how Bruce could expect him to go back there without throwing more punches.

 

“What were you thinking?” Bruce demanded sharply as he dabbed at Jason’s split lip.

 

“I was thinking that he deserved it.” Jason stated bluntly.

 

“That’s not funny, Jay.” Bruce reprimanded.

 

“I’m not laughing.”

 

“Jason, that’s enough!” Bruce scolded harshly, and for the first time Jason ducked his head, suitably chastised. “This isn’t funny. Do you know how many strings I’m gonna have to pull to get this smoothed over? This is your education, Jason! Your future! I have half a mind to not even let you visit Roy if this is the way you’re going to behave now.”

 

“Roy?” Jason breathed. He looked up at Bruce, his eyes were sad and wide. “He’s allowed visitors?”

 

“Yes,” Bruce sighed. “I got the call while you were at school.”

 

“Please,” Jason begged. “Please, let me see him. I won’t do it again. No more fighting. I promise.”

 

* * *

 

 

Alfred drove Jason to the rehab center that same afternoon. Bruce hoped that seeing Roy doing so well - as Dr. Roquette had informed he was - would help Jason let go of some of his worry, put more focus back on his schooling. Jason’s face ached, the split lip had reopened because he couldn’t stop smiling. The bruise along his cheek and jaw was starting to bloom, and his knuckles were in need of being iced. But he couldn’t care about any of it. His only thought was _Roy. Roy. Roy_. in tandem with his pounding heartbeat.

 

When they finally arrived, Jason signed himself in, and was led to an open common area. Roy was curled up on a soft, deep looking armchair, staring out of the window. Jason’s breath got stuck in his throat. He felt tears prick the back of his eyes and he felt like such an idiot. It had only been a week.

 

“Roy,” He breathed as he moved closer.

 

Roy turned sharply at the sound of his name. His whole face softened at the sight of Jason, before rapidly filling with concern as he catalogued the injuries. But Jason didn’t want to talk about that. Before he could think better of it, before he gave Roy the chance to say anything, Jason threw himself into Roy’s lap. He pressed his face to Roy’s chest and breathed him in.

 

“Jay, wha-”

 

“I missed you.”

  
  



	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god this chapter kicked my ass hardcore. i didn't think i'd ever get it done. i only had like....snippets of dialogue in mind for the longest time. jeez.

There's a burning in my pride,  
A nervous bleeding in my brain  
An ounce of peace is all I want for you  
Will you never call again?  
And will you never say that you love me  
Just to put it in my face?  
And will you never try to reach me?  
It is I that wanted space

Hate me today  
Hate me tomorrow  
Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you

Hate me in ways  
Yeah, ways hard to swallow  
Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you

 

Hate Me - Blue October.

 

 

* * *

The ceilings were high and the room was open and bright, despite the dreary weather outside. It was comforting in a lot of ways, but Roy couldn’t help but find the whole thing a little artificial sometimes. They were trying so hard to manufacture a positive, calming environment. It was like painting over something. It didn’t actually change what was beneath.

  


Having the prior days to finally do some much needed self-reflection, Roy understood better now the damage he’d caused. There was no painting over what had become of his life. There were a lot of things he needed to atone for, things he needed to own up to. It could no longer be about what he wanted, but what was necessary for the betterment of himself and those around him. He was under no illusions, he knew that sacrifices would have to be made. 

  


Roy headed to the common area. Dr Roquette had informed him that all of his approved visitors had been contacted, and he’d already received a text from Oliver saying that he was going to pick up Dinah as soon as she was done working and the two of them would be coming to see him. Even though he knew there was still quite some time before that happened, he found the confines of his room a little stifling.

  


His head was a lot clearer now. He still had to grit his teeth through the worst of his cravings, they came and went with varying intensity, but he was no longer utterly consumed by them. The new disposition had left him with a lot of things to think about now that he was capable of the focus. In truth, he’d gone to the common room in search of a distraction.

  


As he walked in, he caught the eyes of a middle aged man, another patient that Roy had seen once or twice before. They nodded amicably to one another. The man cupped a steaming mug of tea between his large palms. 

  


The room was huge, decorated with sofas and coffee tables, TVs were littered around. There was a large dining table at the far end, with a collection of tabletop games to choose from. There was a water dispenser and a coffee machine at the entrance. Roy could see a few of the other patients milling around, some even had visitors. He sighed, and curled up on the deep, worn armchair. He let the pitter-patter of the rain soothe him, as he watched the drops hit the window pane.

  


Roy noticed that the man he’d addressed was watching visitors come and go. He seemed a little wistful, there was a resigned sadness to him. With a sigh, the man stood and made his way into the back kitchen. Roy frowned a little to himself, and turned his gaze back to the window.

  


It wasn’t long afterwards that he heard his name. He turned abruptly to find Jason stood just a few feet away. For a second he considered he might be dreaming, only seeing what he wanted to. But in the very next moment, upon noticing the injuries marring Jay’s face, he knew it was real. He’d never imagine Jason hurting, ever. An ache started up in his chest, at the knowledge that Jason had been hurt and he hadn’t been there. 

  


But before he could even think to speak, Jason was on him, curled up against him, forcing them to occupy the same space. Roy adjusted his position slightly, slouched down a little in the chair. Jason sat in his lap, his legs slung over the chair’s arm and his head nestled in the crook of Roy’s shoulder.

  


“I missed you,” Jason whispered, and Roy melted.

  


Roy truly noticed now that Jason had grown a little over the few months they’d been friends. He was still small for his age, but Roy knew that he’d catch up eventually. Knowing what Roy now did about Jason’s history, he understood that his growth may even have been stunted by the lack of nutrition he’d had on the streets. The thought made Roy’s heart break, and a flare of protectiveness ignited within him as he clutched Jason tighter.

  


“Missed you, too,” He murmured.

  


Jason pulled back then. He smiled up at him almost shyly, and Roy couldn’t help but find it endearing. The tip of Jason’s nose skimmed the edge of Roy’s jaw as he leaned in slightly.

  


“How are you?” Jason asked, his head was tilted in curiosity. 

  


“Better than I was,” Roy hedged. 

  


He really didn’t want to go into too much detail. He already talked about it more than he would’ve liked with his doctors. He also knew that he would be eligible to join group therapy within the next few days, and though he knew it was a necessary part of recovery, he was so sick of rehashing everything.

  


“What about you?” Roy asked gently, and allowed the pad of his thumb to lightly trace Jason’s bottom lip, lingered slightly where it had been split. “What happened, Jay?”

  


“I…” Jason bit his lip, and hissed slightly as he tugged on this torn skin. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

  


He really hoped that Roy would drop it. He didn’t want to lie, but he also didn’t want Roy to know what was being said about him. He didn’t want Roy to feel bad about himself. He knew that Roy had already struggled with feeling like an outsider at school. He couldn’t bring himself to let Roy know that he was now the topic of such cruel, juvenile gossip.

  


“Jay….” Roy sighed. He didn’t want to push, he knew that Jason was a notoriously private person. But at the same time, he would only assume the worst if he didn’t get an answer. “You’re hurt. I’m gonna be worried sick if I don’t know why. I hate the fact that I wasn’t there.”

  


“It’s not a big deal,” Jason promised. But one look at Roy’s face let him know that Roy wasn’t going to let this go. “Honestly, Roy, I’m glad you weren’t there to hear that bullshit.” He scoffed.

  


“This happened because of me?” Roy’s brow furrowed and he looked stricken.

  


“No,” Jason placated, reaching up to hold Roy’s face between his hands. “It’s not your fault. Some people just don’t know when to keep their fucking mouths shut. But, trust me, he won’t be saying anything anymore.”

  


Roy sighed and closed his eyes tightly for a moment. He should have known word would get out. He had never fit in with those kids, he had never for a second imagined that they would be sympathetic to his situation. He certainly didn’t want their pity. Truthfully, he didn’t care at all what they thought of him.

  


But, he did care about Jason getting himself into trouble. He understood, with all the loss he’d had to suffer through, that Jason was fiercely protective of the people in his life. He knew that it would be difficult for Jason to return to school without him. But, he had thought that Jason would just keep his head down, get his work done. When they’d met, Jason was the pinnacle of a perfect student. He was smart and polite and reliable, eager to please.

  


Roy was poison. His influence had caused Jason to lie to his guardian, put himself at risk, hang out at dive bars and college parties, relive his childhood trauma, and now he was starting fights. There was a nagging, cloying, relentless feeling inside Roy, that was fighting to be free. It was bitterness and resentment and self-loathing. If only a few short months of them knowing each other had brought on such bad things for Jason, how much more insidious could it get? What would Roy cost him in the end?

  


“You-...You shouldn’t have done that,” Roy grit out, the words burnt like bile in the back of his throat.

  


“Roy,” Jason looked mystified, taken aback by the harsh edge to Roy’s voice. “He deserved it. You’d have done the same for me.”

  


_ Exactly _ , Roy wanted to spit.  _ You’re better than me. You’re supposed to be better. _

  


“Jason. You can’t start trouble every time someone says something you don’t like.” Roy stated. “Weren’t you building up your college applications? Looking for brownie points on references? What’s a fist fight gonna get you, huh?”

  


Jason looked down then, took his hands from Roy’s face to twine his fingers together in his lap. “Bruce said that, too.” 

  


Roy thought about Jason’s fiery temper, how bullheaded he could be when he wanted something. He contemplated how strong Jason must have been to survive on the streets, how much violence he had likely seen when he was far too young to deal with it. Being with Bruce, getting an education, building a life, it was all supposed to be Jason’s second chance. It was an opportunity to be the man he deserved to be. Roy couldn’t let him take steps back. Not for him.

  


“You should listen to Bruce, y’know. He wants the best for you.” Roy reminded softly.

  


Jason quirked a brow, and barely contained a scoff. “I didn’t come here for a lecture.”

  


“What did you come here for?” Roy couldn’t help but ask. He’d missed Jason something fierce, but they both knew that seeing each other only to have to part again would be painful. Jason had known that Roy would see the injuries. He really should have expected the questioning.

  


“How could you even ask me that?” Jason said quietly, his voice was tinged with hurt. “I came to see you, idiot. I’ve been worried.”

  


“You shouldn’t be worrying about me.” Roy told him. “There are so many other things you should be focusing on right now.”

  


“Look,” Jason started, sounded strained. “Can we just not talk about this anymore? Can’t I just stay here a while?” He burrowed his head back against Roy’s shoulder to emphasize his point.

  


Roy sighed, but relented. In the next moment, the man Roy had seen earlier returned from the kitchen. He walked through the common area, and Roy caught him glancing over and him and Jason, that same longing look on his face. When he met Roy’s eyes, he stopped for a second, and looked almost chagrined. They nodded at each other once again, before the man rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight.

  


Time passed, and Roy relished in the warm, comforting weight of Jason laid against him. He felt more at home than he had in a long time. They didn’t speak much, there was so much that needed to be said, but this wasn’t the place. It wasn’t the right time. Neither one of them wanted to risk shattering the tranquility.

  


Even then, with the affection between them bringing him comfort, Roy couldn’t quite get his mind to rest. He thought about Jason’s mother. He wondered if Jason was thinking of her too, about how a place like this could’ve saved her. Did Jason see all these addicts and think of what he was robbed of? Was it hard for him to be here given the circumstances? Roy didn’t know what he would do if the roles were reversed. But, he did think that there would be a matter of pride involved. He knew that if it had been him, he would’ve had to come here, just to prove that he could handle it. Was that what this was for Jason?

Eventually, Roy saw Oliver and Dinah enter. When they spotted him, Dinah gave him a beaming smile, Oliver looked out of his element, but relieved. When Jason saw them, he hastily tried to right himself, to remove himself from Roy’s lap so that Roy could properly greet his parents.

  


Jason watched as Roy stood to embrace Dinah tightly. He couldn’t help but grit his teeth a little when Oliver too leaned forward to give Roy a one armed hug. Jason didn’t want to intrude, and knew that it was only fair that he leave now so that Roy could spend some time with his new visitors. But he didn’t want to leave, he didn’t want to go home to Bruce’s disappointment. He didn’t want to think about going to school the next day.

  


Jason cleared his throat. Three sets of eyes turned to him simultaneously. Dinah smiled, her expression shone with gratitude, and Jason didn’t understand what he could have possibly done to deserve that. Jason offered an awkward half smile back, before he turned to Roy.

  


“I should probably go,” He murmured.

  


Roy stepped towards him then, and seemed to hesitate before he reached up to twine his fingers in the hair at Jason’s nape. “No more fighting, okay? I don’t want you getting yourself into trouble. Not over me.”

  


Jason grinned softly up at him. “I promise.”

  


They gazed at each other for a charged moment. Roy watched as Jason’s eyes flitted to Oliver and Dinah, then back. Jason contemplated their audience, before deciding that he didn’t care, that he was done second guessing everything, and concerning himself with the thoughts of others. He stepped towards Roy purposefully, craned up to press their lips together. It was chaste, sweet. There was no rush, no need to prove anything. 

  


Jason pulled a hair's breadth away before he sighed. He caught and held Roy’s gaze for a long moment. “I’ll see you soon,” He breathed.

  


* * *

 

Roy watched, dejected, as Jason disappeared out of sight. With a sigh, he once again took a seat. There was a torrent of feeling inside him, and he couldn’t think through the chaos. His fingertips began to tremble minutely as he felt a craving coming on, he hoped that it would be minor, that it would pass. 

  


He pressed his thumb nail into the skin at the crease of his elbow, under the guise of folding his arms. He felt the slightly raised skin where the track marks were scabbed over or scarred. He pressed down, not enough to really hurt, but enough to act as a reminder. It helped him get through. He took measured breaths, and finally turned to meet the worried gazes of Oliver and Dinah.

  


He couldn’t tell if they were giving him a moment to collect himself, or if they just didn’t know what to say. There was a part of him that almost wished that they wouldn’t visit at all, if all they were going to do was sit around, awkward and unsure. It was suffocating, the knowledge that they were only here because they cared for him, because they were obligated to him. They all knew that none of them really wanted to be here, it was a necessity. It was with that thought in mind that Roy remembered that, regardless of its luxury and relative freedom, this place was still essentially a prison to him. 

  


“How’ve you been?” Dinah asked then, her voice was soft and sincere.

  


One thing that Roy had always taken for granted about Dinah, is that she’d never been anything less than genuine. They may not have seen each other much, and weren’t really close. But Dinah was an open woman, she spoke her mind and loved with her whole heart. Looking back, Roy probably could have gone to her with any of his troubles, and she would have welcomed him. He’d been so consumed by trying to reinvent himself, at playing rock star, that the thought had never crossed his mind. 

  


“Good. Better.” He told them.

  


It wasn’t entirely a lie. He figured that almost anything would be considered better than he had been before coming here. There was no denying that a part of this was all for show. They were visiting because they wanted Roy to know they supported him, and Roy told them what they wanted to hear so they felt that their support was working. 

  


Dr Roquette had told him to work on his honesty. She made him confront the fact that he’d built up a different perception to cope with his problems. The band, and the rebellion, it had all just been a smoke screen. It was a way for Roy to wrap up what he was really doing, decorate it in something fun and exciting, larger than life. He needed to be honest with himself. He needed to tell people how he really felt.  _ The truth isn’t always pretty _ , she’d said.  _ But, it’s always the right thing in the end _ .

  


“That’s good,” Oliver replied gruffly. 

  


An awkward silence fell then. It would do none of them any good to keep up the pretense of small talk. Roy didn’t know what to say. It had only been a week and his routine consisted of speaking with Dr Roquette, battling with his cravings, and channel surfing in his room. Not enough time had passed for him to tell them of any developments. He hadn’t started group therapy yet and the other patients were all much older than him, so even if this was the place to make friends - which it wasn’t - he’d had no opportunities to do so. There was nothing to say that hadn’t already been said.

  


Dinah stood to retrieve some coffee, and they mustered up enough inane chatter to fill the time as they drank. It was nearing an hour later when they finally stood to leave. Roy felt guilty for how relieved he was to see them go. Visitors shouldn’t feel so exhausting.

  


When he trekked back up to his room, he found he had a text from Jason waiting for him.

  


**[text: Jay:]** Bruce said I can only visit once a week. I said Friday so I can stay longer. I hope that’s cool  <3

  


Roy smirked to himself a little. It was only Monday. Though he knew that Friday was a practical day to visit, it still amused Roy a little that Jay had managed to wrangle two visits into the week by implementing the Friday rule  _ after _ he’d already had a Monday visit. Doubtless, Bruce had picked up on that too, but Roy was sure he’d let it slide.

  


**[text: Roy:]** sure! see you then

  


* * *

 

The more sessions that Roy had with Dr Roquette, and the longer he was sober, the more he began to think about the bigger picture. It nagged at him, left him restless. Dr Roquette kept telling him that he was young, full of promise, that he had the chance to turn this whole thing around. But, Roy found himself questioning what the right steps were. They tossed around words like potential and honesty and sacrifice, but ultimately, what would Roy do with the choices ahead? Did he need to seek them out and take those steps forward?

  


It was overwhelming, and when Wednesday finally rolled around Roy found himself eager to start group therapy. He already knew that he wouldn’t personally be sharing anything, at least not at first. But, he really needed some feeling of solidarity, he was hopeful that something that somebody shared would give him some insight. His thoughts and feelings had been so overwhelming for so long. He harboured so much guilt. Somebody had to know something that would help him understand it all better.

  


He entered the large hall, and took a seat in one of the many folding chairs that were positioned in a crude circle. There were only a few people in the room when he arrived, and Roy wasn’t entirely sure how many people were currently staying in the building, or how many of them would be eligible for group therapy. He hadn’t seen all that many people, and didn’t think there would be more than a few others joining them.

  


He looked around the circle, and his eyes settled on a man - the same man he’d seen in the lounge the other day - sat directly across from him. The man wasn’t looking his way, but had his gaze fixed on the door, watching as people entered and milled around. It wasn’t much longer until the doctor entered. 

  


She wasn’t a woman that Roy had ever met before. But all of the staff so far had been compassionate and experienced, so he wasn’t worried. She took a seat in the chair closest to the door, facing the gathered patients. She was older than Dr Roquette, her hair was tied back in a high bun and just beginning to grey at the temples. She gave them a soft smile, revealing small wrinkles around her eyes, and placed her clipboard down on the ground beside her feet.

  


“Hello, everyone. For those of you who don’t know, I’m Dr Thompkins.” She greeted warmly. “The same as ever, I ask that you not interrupt when someone is sharing, and allow them to speak freely without judgement. This is a positive exercise. It’s a way to get things off your chest, compare experiences, and learn from each other.”

  


She looked at each person in turn, and Roy noted that she had kind eyes, they shone with sincerity. He found himself relaxing in his chair. Though it was a little overwhelming to be around so many other patients at once, especially with the knowledge that he was considerably younger than the rest of them, it was also oddly comforting. Everyone here was in the same boat, and maybe it would finally give Roy some answers.

  


“You don’t have to say anything that you’re not ready to. You don’t need to speak at all, it’s all entirely voluntary.” She elaborated. “Your experiences are your own, and if you don’t want to share them, that is your right. I understand if you’d rather disclose things in your one-on-one sessions with your assigned doctor.”

  


Roy wondered idly if this was routine, something that was reiterated at every session, or just an overview for when a new patient joined the circle. With that in mind, he pondered if there was anyone else here who hadn’t done group therapy before, or if the whole introduction was simply for his own benefit. Everybody seemed to be listening dutifully, regardless.

  


“So, with that out of the way,” she said, and clapped her hands together. “Let’s get started. Is there anybody who would like to share anything?” 

  


Roy watched as she glanced around the circle encouragingly. Roy followed her gaze, looking at each one of the patients before moving onto the next. Most of them were avoiding eye contact, and fidgeting awkwardly in their seats. Even if Roy were inclined to say anything, he would definitely not want to go first. He could appreciate the hesitancy.

  


After a prolonged moment, Roy watched as the man he’d noticed earlier, cautiously raised his hand.

  


“Excellent!” Dr Thompkins enthused. “Please tell everybody your name and whatever you'd like to share.”

  


Roy watched, intrigued, as the man stood. He wiped his hands on his thighs as though nervous. He took a measured breath, and Roy felt a pang of sympathy. The man cleared his throat.

  


“Uh, hello. I'm Luke.” He began.

  


The other patients all muttered greetings. Roy barely contained a snort. It was a surreal thing to witness, he hadn't known this actually happened in real life.

  


“Well, I guess…” Luke trailed off, as though trying to collect his thoughts. “I guess I should start with the latest. The divorce was finalized this week.”

  


Roy's brows rose. Looking down, he could see the gold band on Luke’s ring finger, and watched as the man ran the pad of his thumb across it delicately. Suddenly, Roy decided that hearing about how other people had destroyed their lives wasn't such a good idea after all.

  


“Oh,” Dr Thompkins breathed, almost mournfully. “I’m sorry to hear that, Luke.”

  


“Don’t,” Luke replied easily. “Don't be sorry. It's a good thing.”

  


“And how’s that?” The doctor pressed. Roy wanted the answer to that one himself. Anyone with eyes could see how it was gutting him.

  


“I wanted her to leave me.” Luke imparted. “For her sake. But also for mine.”

  


The other patients were starting to murmur, glancing around at each other. Roy had no true comprehension of that level of commitment. Marriage was a big, scary concept, something that Roy had never considered. But, at the same time, he understood what Luke was saying, at least a little. He remembered a conversation he'd had with Jason, it seemed so long ago now. Roy had told him that he didn't want a relationship, wasn't in the right place to even contemplate it. Roy shuddered at the thought of how much worse everything would've been if he'd had a serious significant other to consider at the same time.

  


Developments between him and Jason had taken him off guard. He didn't want to dwell on what it all meant for very long. Despite his own feelings for Jay, and the fact that he now knew they were reciprocated, Roy had been avoiding any true acknowledgement that anything had changed. 

  


Yes, they kissed now. But Roy kissed people all the time, often multiple people in a single night, and often people he didn't even know the names of. It didn't have to mean anything. And so what if the thought of comparing Jason to those others made Roy feel a little queasy? That didn't have to mean anything either.

  


“See, I’ve struggled with my addiction for half of my life.” Luke continued. “This is the fifth time I’ve been in a place like this. My entire marriage was tainted by it.”

  


Dr Thompkins frowned in sympathy. Around the circle, patients bowed their heads, Roy could feel the ripple effect of his words like a physical ache. It was a tangible sense of loss. Everyone here had lost something, been overcome with their vices, fallen prey to their own bad choices.

  


“And she kept encouraging me. She supported me at every turn. Never missed a visitation. Even when I pawned our stuff, even when I nearly got us evicted.” Luke sighed then. He sat back down in his chair and brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Then I realized something…”

  


Roy waited with bated breath. He didn't understand why he was so invested. It maybe had something to do with the raw honesty, the way that Luke felt real and human in his recovery. This had been what Roy had wanted, right? To understand?

  


“What did you realize?” Dr Thompkins prompted in a whisper.

  


“That it wasn't about happiness anymore.” Luke stated plainly. “She was worn down. Every time I fell off the wagon, she'd have to relive the last time. Even when I was sober, she was walking around with this  _ feeling _ inside, wondering if I'm gonna screw up again, wondering if her whole fucking life is about to get turned on it's head.”

  


Roy’s chest grew tight. Isn't this what he’d been worried about himself? He would always be an addict. He knew that. He'd made his peace with his lot in life. But how could he ever expect someone else to do the same? What did he have to offer?

  


“It was this vicious cycle, y’know? She would be stressed, and I hated seeing her upset. She kept trying to hide it from me and that only made it worse. We'd fight and I'd get frustrated. I'd need something to take the edge off, and we'd end up right back where we started.” Luke blew out a long breath then. 

  


He glanced around the circle. Nobody seemed to want to meet his eye, but Roy did. Roy looked him right in the face, and saw what he could become in a decade's time if he didn't do things right. Roy understood now why Luke had looked so wistful, why he had been sitting alone amongst the others with their visitors. He'd probably been half expecting his wife to come and see him one last time, maybe even just to deliver the papers.

  


“Somewhere along the line, I forgot how to make her happy. Probably right around the same time that she start seeing us as some sort of….I don't even know what.” Luke said. “She kept saying she loved me, but I could tell that no matter how true it was, she just didn't know how to let go. It was like she had to see this through, like if she didn't support me then it made her a failure. But it wasn't her job to save me. She shouldn't carry that weight.”

  


“So you left her?” Roy found himself asking, before he could think better of it.

  


Luke gave him a sad sort of smile. “I let her go. She was miserable. Her being miserable made my need to self-medicate worse. I didn't want us to hate each other. We were already halfway to resentment.”

  


“Has it helped?” Dr Thompkins asked gently.

  


“Yeah,” Luke breathed, as though he couldn't quite believe it himself. “It really has. I know she's gonna be so happy, she's gonna live the life she deserves. Our marriage was holding her back for too long. And me? Now, I gotta get clean for myself. My recovery isn't hinged on anyone else. I've got no one to blame but myself now. I've been sober for longer now than I've ever been since this whole mess started.”

  


Roy bit down on his bottom lip.  _ Sacrifices need to be made. _ He remembered. He thought about how awkward and stilted it had felt to sit with Oliver and Dinah, how forced the conversation had been. He had never wanted to be an obligation. He thought about Jason, and Jason's mother. Roy remembered what Jay had told him about the guilt he'd felt, about how he wondered if he'd found her sooner, maybe he could’ve saved her. 

  


_ What if Jay was treating this like his redemption? _ The concept really wasn't farfetched. It made something hot and suffocating build up in Roy's throat. It wasn't healthy for Jason to fixate on things he couldn't control, to project his past onto the present. 

  


Did Jason really even know him at all? Roy had been trying to be anyone else, hiding behind false bravado and a catalogue of bad decisions the whole time. How much of this was just Jason trying to prove something? 

  


“Thank you for sharing that with us, Luke.” Roy vaguely heard Dr Thompkins say.

  


Other patients took their turns. They spilled their hearts out, purged themselves of all the bad they held inside, and Roy registered none of it. He was so consumed with the concepts that Luke had enlightened him to. His thoughts were so badly muddled.

  


* * *

 

It was hours later, long after the group session had ended, and Roy still couldn't quite shake it. He turned into the common room, hoping to find any kind of distraction. There, at the back of the room, sat at the large table, was Luke. He was playing chess by himself.

  


Before he could even consider what he was doing, Roy was striding over there. He came to a stop only a couple of feet away. Luke raised an eyebrow in acknowledgment, and inclined his head to the chess board.

  


“You fancy a game, kid?” He asked.

  


“No.” Roy replied, bluntly. He'd never played chess in his life. “I'm Roy.” He said then, belatedly remembering his manners.

  


“Well, what can I do for you, Roy?”

  


“I, uh...wanted to ask you something.” Roy fumbled. “I mean...you can tell me to fuck off, it's none of my business but…”

  


“Shoot.” Luke told him, not unkindly.

  


Roy took a deep breath. He found his gaze drawn to the ring on the older man’s finger. “Do you regret it?” He murmured unthinkingly.

  


Luke sucked in a breath, and Roy knew he had likely crossed a line. But Luke seemed to ponder his answer for a long time, and he gave Roy a half smile in the end. “No, I don't think I do.”

  


Roy pulled out a chair. He folded his arms on the table top before him and leaned in. “Really?”

  


“Kid, at the lowest point, I was pawning anything and everything we had to get my hands on some junk.” He said bluntly. “But not this,” he held up his hand, indicated the gold band around his finger. “Never this.”

  


“Then why don't you regret it?”

  


“It's hard to explain,” Luke hedged. “I guess, I had this moment of clarity. Like I finally remembered what mattered. It was about her being happy, even if it wasn't with me. It was about me getting better, even if she couldn't help me do it.”

  


Roy nodded, finally beginning to understand a little.

  


“What it comes down to, kid, is this: what's right, isn't always easy.” 

  


Roy didn't know what to say to that, but he appreciated the honesty. It was certainly putting things into a different kind of perspective. Before he could think of a response, his stomach growled loudly. 

  


“How about we get ourselves something to eat, huh?” Luke chuckled.

  


Roy nodded happily, and followed the man into the kitchen. He didn't know anything beyond the basics of cooking, but it was never too late to learn.

  


* * *

 

The next morning, Roy awoke from a restless sleep. Usually when he found his thoughts too troublesome to bear, he would just go out and get a fix to numb himself against it. Now, he was being forced to confront everything, and he wasn't faring too well.

  


A good morning text from Jason glared up at him from his phone. He couldn't bring himself to respond. He was too out of sorts, and his feelings for Jason were too mixed up in all the questions he still needed to answer, decisions he had yet to make. He couldn't afford to be compromised.

  


He shouldn't have been surprised that he felt this way. An existential crisis should have been expected. After all, wasn't a large part of the recovery process doing a whole lot of soul-scratching? He had a lot left to consider, and he knew that the programme must be helping because he found himself looking forward to his session with Dr Roquette.

  


Finally collapsing into the chair before her desk was like a gulp of fresh air after being submerged for too long. He was so sick of carrying all of this around with him.

  


“Good morning, Roy.” She greeted. “How are you today?”

  


“Stressed.” He blurted honestly. It was liberating, to be so open without the fear of judgement.

  


“And, why’s what?” She asked him. Her voice was soothing and patient.

  


Without any further coaxing, Roy told her everything. Every grisly detail of the inner workings of his mind, every quiet murmur of his heart was left at her feet, available for her scrutiny. Roy talked until he could barely breathe, so lost yet relieved that he could finally let it all go. He knew that she wouldn’t give him answers, it was her job to help him find them for himself. But, just the knowing that there was someone else who knew every tiny facet, made the weight of it all feel a little less crushing.

  


Once Roy was finished, Dr Roquette was quiet for a long time. She looked down at her notes as she pursed her lips. When she finally met his gaze, she looked almost troubled, concerned. Roy could see her working to choose her words correctly.

  


“I want you to really listen to what I’m going to tell you, okay?” She started. “It might sound simple, but it’s important that you understand this.”

Roy nodded. She hadn’t failed him yet. He knew that any words of wisdom she imparted would be of great use to him. He was passed trying to deal with any of this alone.

  


“You need to stop worrying about what other people think and feel. You are not responsible for their happiness.” She told him. “It is not selfish to put yourself first. In fact, it’s often vital.”

  


“I...don’t…” Roy hedged. He understood what she was saying of course, but couldn’t seem to reconcile that with what he’d told her.

  


“Roy,” She said gently. “Just focus on what makes this process easier for you. Think about what you need. Eliminate anything that causes you unnecessary stress.”

  


Roy closed his eyes. He thought back over everything he had learnt. It felt like he’d been there for so much longer, given how different he felt. He thought about what Dr Roquette had told him from the beginning, about what he’d learnt from Luke. He had been so focused on how everybody else viewed him, he’d barely considered how he viewed himself. Ultimately, he was the only one who had to live with him for the rest of his life. He had to accept himself, learn to nurture himself. 

  


He understood now. He knew what he needed to do, for himself, for his future, for the people he would be able to care for when he was eventually well. His decision was easily made, even if it was difficult to face.

  


* * *

 

When Friday dawned, Roy found himself awake by the break of day. There was a thrumming energy, anxiety buzzing beneath his skin. But he couldn’t back down, wouldn’t. He knew what he had to do.

  


He spent most of the day in the kitchen, mostly just to pass the time. Luke taught him a variety of recipes. He found he actually enjoyed the man’s company. They experimented with different herbs and spices, getting a thrill every time they hit success. Roy had finally decided what his activity was going to be. He’d never considered cooking therapeutic before. 

  


Hours later, Roy glanced at the clock. Jason was likely already on his way. Before he could lose his nerve, he took out his phone. With a deep, measured breath, he blocked Jason’s number, and deleted the contact.

  


He knew this wouldn’t be easy. He knew that it would rip his insides to shreds, but he trusted that it was for the best. He couldn’t spend the rest of his recovery constantly worrying about whether or not he was good enough for Jason, whether the whole thing was bringing up painful memories for Jason, about how a potential relapse would effect Jason. It wasn’t healthy.

  


Jay was as stubborn as the day was long. He wouldn’t give up easily. Roy had to make this hurt, had to drive the knife in. He had nothing to offer Jason, nothing but promises he couldn’t keep and false hope that things could get better. Every doubt he’d ever had, every insecurity that had ever circled his mind since he first realized he had feelings for Jay, reared its head now. But, this time, Roy welcomed it. He knew there was irrefutable truth to every single one of them, and he would weaponize that now.

  


He sat at a small table. His hands were twined together on top, and the only available chair was directly across from him. Roy needed this encounter to be as impersonal as possible, he didn’t think he’d survive it otherwise. Finally, Jason walked through the door, and Roy felt insurmountable pain, like a crushing weight on his ribs.

  


Jason was beaming, hopeful and oblivious. God, Roy hated himself for what he had to do. But he trusted that Jay would get over it, that he would go to some fancy school and meet some fancy boy who had his shit together. Then Jason would never have to doubt that he was loved. He wouldn’t have to fight to be happy.

  


Jay took the seat, reached his own arms out, laid his hands atop of Roy’s. Roy really hoped that he couldn’t feel him trembling. Roy took measured breaths, tried to work through the pain in his chest, the lump in his throat. Jason was smiling so softly, his eyes lit up with so much fondness that it was almost Roy’s undoing.  _ What’s right isn’t always easy. _

  


With a gentle sigh, Roy removed his hands from Jason’s grasp, and pulled them against his own body. He met Jason’s eye, knew that he would have to if he was ever going to get Jason to buy this. Jay’s brow furrowed, confusion and hurt battling in his eyes.

  


“Roy?” He asked gently, unsure of what was happening. It was clear that something had changed.

  


“What are we even doing here, Jay?” Roy asked bluntly.

  


“What do you mean?” Jason’s voice was mystified.

  


“This.  _ Us _ .” Roy explained. “Who’re we trying to fool?”

  


“Wh-...What are you talking about?” Jason pressed. And Roy closed his eyes for a moment, pretended not to hear the way the words cracked.

  


Roy looked down at the table. Roy tried to tell himself that this didn’t count as a break-up,  _ couldn’t _ , he and Jay weren’t even dating. Sometimes it felt like they had been the whole time. He twined his hands together, squeezed them so tight it was almost painful. If Jason never spoke to him again it would be for the best, he needed to remember that.

  


“I...I’m not your second chance here, Jason.” Roy stated. “You can’t save me.”

  


“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jason fumed suddenly, his eyes were wet with unshed tears. He braced his hands on the table top and leaned further forward. His voice broke as he murmured, “That’s not what I’m trying to-”

  


“I’m not her.” Roy cut off abruptly. He levelled Jason with a practised stare. It was stoic in the face of Jason’s tears, now falling unbidden. Jason gasped softly, a sob building in his throat. “We need to stop pretending this is something that it’s not.”

  


Jason looked down at his lap. Too proud to let Roy see him cry so openly, especially when he didn’t seem to care. He had felt Roy withdrawing, knew that something was going on, but, stubbornly, stupidly, he’d put it down to the pressure he was under. He’d never for a second thought that  _ he _ was the problem. But then he remembered Roy’s escapades, his nightly conquests. Roy was well versed in physical intimacy, in casual affection, with or without any sort of emotional investment. 

  


Jason felt like a fool for ever believing that this could’ve been something. Despite his heartbreak, white hot anger still clawed its way up his throat. How  _ dare _ Roy bring his mother into this? How  _ dare _ he try to dismiss his feelings?

  


God, Roy felt sick. He never, ever wanted to see Jason hurting. But he knew that if they pursued this any further, it would only hurt them both so much more in the end. It was better to end it here, a clean break, before things could get too far. Even still, he would never forgive himself for putting that look on Jason’s face.

  


“Don’t yo-” Jason started, gritting his teeth, trying to sound brave and defiant. He tried to sound like he wasn’t dying.

  


“It doesn’t matter what happens, what you do,” Roy cut him off again, stared him down. “It won’t bring your mom back.” 

  


Jason was shaking. His anger and his hurt were all swirled together into one toxic combination, a poison that leached away at his insides. He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t sit in the face of this for a second longer. Maybe Roy was just angry. Maybe it had just been a really hard day, that was bound to happen in recovery. Emotions ran high and lashing out was to be expected. Maybe he should just leave, let everything cool off for a few days. Despite what Roy had said, despite how betrayed and flayed open Jason felt, he still loved Roy more than anything else in the world. He wondered how much of it was denial.

  


The sound of the chair scraping across the floor was jarring. Brokenly, Jason stood, and without a word, he turned to leave. He got only a few feet from the door when he heard Roy call his name. 

  


“Oh, and Jason?” He didn’t turn around, but Roy could tell from the tension in his frame that he was listening. “Don’t come back,” He said clearly, unfaltering.

  


Roy watched with a heavy heart as Jason seemed to fold in on himself. There was no longer any denying what was happening. Whatever it was that they had had between them, it was over now. Roy saw as Jason’s shoulders began to quake, and he folded his arms around himself to try and hold it together.

  


“Fuck you.” Jason spat then, his voice was weak with tears, but the aggression in the words was unmistakable. He walked out of the building, and out of Roy’s life.

  


Roy had gotten what he wanted. So why did it feel like the whole world just came crashing down around him? Why did it feel like his heart was left in pieces on the floor? 

  


_ Sacrifices have to be made. _

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please dont kill me
> 
> also if you like what i do, and are able to support me, i'd really appreciate you buying me a coffee  
> @ ko-fi.com/oathkeptroxas


	34. Chapter 34

**FIVE YEARS LATER.**

It was a stormy, winter night in the city. Jason really wanted nothing more than to curl up with a well-worn book, feel the broken spine beneath his fingertips. The following few weeks had been emotionally draining. Unfortunately, Bruce had other ideas.

 

Though Jason was thrilled to help out with the many charitable endeavours that Wayne Enterprises worked on, the cold weather made him want to stay indoors. It was the holiday season, and charity work was as busy and demanding as ever. Shelters and soup kitchens were rammed at all times, people were desperately trying to escape the cold. Thankfully, there was something about Christmas that brought out the good Samaritan in people, and volunteers weren't hard to come by.

 

Despite the fact that Jason would normally jump at the chance to be of help, it was now 5 years since he’d last seen Roy, almost to the day, and he felt he was entitled to wallow. After everything Jason had ever wanted had gotten ripped away from him, he dove head first into his studies. Academics was a distraction. Graduating a year early meant that he could get out of this city, take a much needed reprieve from the place that harboured too many bad memories. With the time away, he’d grown a lot, and had even gotten over it eventually - at least for the most part. He'd studied psychology and child care in college, and now he was back, home for the holidays and in a work placement program at Arkham Asylum. But ultimately, the goal was to become a child therapist, to help children like himself...children like Roy.

 

But, when Bruce slapped a flyer on the table before Jason, he knew he couldn't refuse. The advertisement was for a new restaurant opening. The photographed food looked appetizing, and the flyer was well designed. Large text proclaimed that the Willow Tree was open for business, underneath the heading, it said “25% of all proceeds throughout December and January will be donated to various charities throughout the city. Endorsed by Wayne Enterprises.”

 

“The owner has been very cooperative. This is a good opportunity for us, Jason.” Bruce began. “He sought me out, wanted to cater for all Wayne Enterprises endorsed charities, free of charge. All shelters, soup kitchens and orphanages.”

 

“What do you need me to do?” Jason said, not even bothering to veil his reluctance.

 

“I'm not sending you to the gallows.” Bruce chuckled. “The owner just offered to provide a complementary three course meal, a way to say thank you and to get official approval before we start serving it at all our charities.”

 

“Then why don't _you_ go? Surely there's something else I can do to help out?” Jason sighed.

 

It wasn't that he wasn't appreciative of what this business opportunity could mean, but the thought of sitting and eating a meal alone was far too depressing.

 

“I'm sorry, Jay.” Bruce said softly. He knew that Jason was going through a hard time. “There's too much going on right now. I need to make so many calls and arrangements, you know how busy this time of year gets.”

 

* * *

 

And that was how Jason found himself stood outside the Willow Tree. He stared up at the building, could hear the bustle of people from inside. He brought his cigarette up to his lips and took a long drag. Even after all this time, he still hadn't kicked the habit. Finally, he stubbed out the smoke and ducked out of the bitter cold.

 

A young man stepped up to greet him. He was dressed all in black, but not overly formal. His name-tag declared his name as Connor.

 

“Hello, sir.” He smiled. “Welcome to the Willow Tree.”

 

“Yeah,” Jason replied, a little overwhelmed. “Uh, I’m here on behalf of Wayne Enterprises?”

 

“Ah,” Connor’s face lit up in acknowledgement. “Just a moment!”

 

Jason watched as Connor paced a few feet away, and rounded a small wooden podium. He flicked through what appeared to be a diary of some kind, a bookings register. He scanned the pages, obviously looking for his next cue now that an - apparently - esteemed guest had arrived.

 

Seemingly finding what he was looking for, Connor retrieved a menu from the shelf within the podium, and returned to Jason. “Please, follow me.”

 

Jason was led to a large booth, tucked away in the far corner of the restaurant. He was thankful for it, the bench seats had always been his preference, and the relative seclusion was better for him, too. This way he could people watch and hopefully go unnoticed, he really didn't want to be seen eating alone. Connor handed Jason the menu.

 

“Thank you for dining with us this evening,” Connor said with a smile. “Your server shall be out shortly.”

 

Jason watched the young man walk away for a moment, before perusing the rest of the establishment. It was busy, but despite the vast amount of people, it still felt intimate. The lights were relatively dim and each table was adorned with a small candle, set inside a delicate glass bowl. The colour pallete was warm, reds and rustic with the slightest hint of gold in the detailing. Most of the furnishings were made of real wood. It had a lot of character, so much more so than Jason had grown to expect from the various other upscale eateries he'd been to.

 

“Hi, sorry to keep you.” A chipper voice knocked Jason out of his reverie. “I'm Mia, and I'll be your server this evening.”

 

Jason watched as the girl retrieved a notepad from the front pocket of her uniform. She reached up to grasp the pen from behind her ear. Finally, she looked up and gave Jason a polite smile, the kind of fake friendly that was perfected by those who worked in customer service.

 

“Can I get you a drink to start?”

 

“A glass of water would be great, thanks.” Jason told her.

 

“Sure, no problem.” Mia dutifully made a note. “Your meal is on the house tonight. Feel free to choose any dish from our selection for each course. Have you had a chance to look through the menu or would you like me to give you a few minutes?”

 

Jason pondered that for a moment. He didn't have much of an appetite, though he knew he should eat. He hadn't eaten much all day, his mind had been on other things. If he was really here to test the food that would be provided to Wayne Enterprises’ charities, maybe it wouldn't hurt to sample something he hadn't outright chosen.

 

“What would you recommend?” He found himself asking. It's not something he would normally do, but he knew he'd be unable to decide alone.

 

“Oh,” Mia exclaimed, clearly unprepared for the question. “Well, the chowder is real good! And we have a great selection of burgers.”

 

Jason glanced down to the burger section of the menu. His brow rose as he read through the choices. It did all sound really good, and not the kind of food he'd been expecting when Bruce had first sent him out here. He actually found himself relieved.

 

“Alright. I'll have the chowder to start, and a cheese and bacon burger with onion rings.” He smiled and handed Mia the menu.

 

She tucked the menu under her arm before jotting down his order. “And for dessert?”

 

Jason thought for a moment. “Surprise me.”

 

“That'll be right out as quickly as possible. There may be a small wait. As you can see, we're swamped.” Mia smiled apologetically. “The boss will be out at some point to speak to you. He wanted to thank you in person for the opportunities presented by Wayne Enterprises.”

 

With one last smile, she turned away, her blonde ponytail swung gracefully behind her. Jason turned back to the restaurant. This was a huge new business opening, with already established working relations with Wayne Enterprises. It was really no surprise that people had arrived in droves to see what all the fuss was about. Jason couldn't help but smirk as he took in how formal everyone seemed, they'd dressed to the nines expecting this to be the usual. He found himself grateful for the authenticity of the place.

 

He was so absorbed by his thoughts that Mia briefly returning with his water actually startled him. While he waited for his food, he haphazardly drew shapes in the condensation of his glass. The booth felt a little lonely, and Jason had to admit he was feeling a little sorry for himself.

 

The holidays were always a hard time for anyone who had suffered any kind of loss or trauma. Everywhere he looked there were people promoting family and love and celebration. Despite these being positive things that everyone should strive for, it still inevitably acted as a reminder of the things that had been lost, of all the times when love and family and peace weren't so readily available. Jason pondered that perhaps it was that concept that brought out the increase in charity work at this time of year.

 

When the chowder arrived, it was steaming and the smell had Jason's mouth watering. It was thick and hearty, full of meat and vegetables and a subtle, welcome edge of warming spice. Jason couldn't help but think about how well this would do at soup kitchens. It had a lot of nutritional value, was packed full of flavour, and would also fight off some of the winter chill. Jason would definitely be talking to Bruce about making that happen.

 

As he enjoyed his appetizer, Jason found himself forgetting about his loneliness. His mind had gone off on so many tangents now that he'd tasted the food. It really sank in how beneficial this would be. It was surely a solid investment. He couldn't help but think about all the people who would reap the benefits of this food, and how he wished a business as generous as this one had been around when he’d been relying on the generosity of strangers himself.

 

The burger was much the same, well seasoned and melt-in-the-mouth. Jason could picture the kids in the orphanages loving them. Once again, Jason found himself in awe of Bruce Wayne. Ever since the moment they'd met, Bruce had shown an unwavering need to better the lives of others, and he had a good head for establishing just the right connections. This venture would surely be no different, and despite his earlier reluctance, Jason couldn't wait to get started.

 

Truthfully, Jason didn't think he could stomach another bite. But when a wedge of chocolate and vanilla swirl cheesecake was set in front of him, he couldn't refuse. He'd never been one to waste food, he could never quite kick the habit. He'd grown up with the belief that you ate whenever and as much as you could because you'd never know when you'd next get the chance. But as the dessert hit his taste buds he almost moaned aloud. It was decadent.

 

* * *

 

He was just a few bites away from being finished, staring down at his plate as he tried to will himself to scrape up a spoonful. He heard somebody approach, but paid it no heed.

 

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” the new comer - presumably the owner - said as they took the opposite seat in the booth. “I trust my staff took care of you?”

 

Jason sucked in a breath. The spoon made a loud clatter as it dropped to his plate. He felt like he couldn't breathe, the velvet-smooth feel of the chocolate was wiped away, replaced with the taste of bile in the back of his throat. _No, it couldn't be._ But he knew that voice.

 

Keeping his head bowed for just a moment longer, Jason fought to calm himself. _It's not him._ He tried to reason. _Just get it over with._ Jason knew he had only to look up, to confirm what he already knew. He thought he'd moved passed the point of seeing and hearing him everywhere. _It's not him._

 

Only it was. Jason looked up, and blinked. And he was still there.

 

“Jason,” Roy sighed, shocked and reverent, like it was a dream.

 

Jason couldn't breathe. He was overcome with years worth of pent up and repressed emotion. He never thought he'd see Roy again. A part of him was counting on that, so he’d never have to confront the feelings that twisted him up inside. Roy had always left him speechless.

 

He looked good. His shoulders were broad and his arms were well muscled. His freckles only added to his charm. Jason couldn't reconcile the man before him with the teenager he'd known. A swell of emotion burned in Jason’s chest. Despite himself, he was so happy to see Roy healthy.

 

Roy recovered first, blinked slowly for a few seconds and took a deep breath.

 

“There's so much I never got to say to you.” His voice was whisper soft.

 

“Who's fault is that?” Jason bit out. He couldn't help it. He shouldn’t be here. “Did you plan this? Did you and Bruce set me up?”

 

“What? No.” Roy raised his hands before him in a plaintive gesture. “This was supposed to be a business dinner. I was expecting a representative, maybe even Bruce. I had no idea he’d send you.”

 

Jason should’ve been relieved by that, that he'd not being talked about or toyed with. But it just made him sad.

“So, what? You didn't wanna see me at all?” He demanded, trying to sound stern but his heart felt like it was bleeding. “You were gonna go into business with Bruce and hope I wouldnt find out?”

 

“No. Jay, stop putting words in my mouth.” Roy said, tried to keep a level tone but Jason could tell he was frustrated. It hurt to know he could still read him so well. It hurt to hear Roy say his name.

 

“I wanted to thank Bruce for the help he gave me, I wanted to help others like me. I thought a collaboration would be a great way to start,” Roy explained. “I know I fucked up with us, Jay. But this isn’t about that. This is about me trying to do something good and right for once in my life.”

 

The pain in Roy’s voice made Jason flinch. He could never stand to see him hurting, that hadn’t changed in the years apart. No matter how hard he tried, how much he changed, Roy would always be his weak spot.

 

“I...I-I’m sorry,” Jason breathed. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. We should just talk business.”

 

Roy looked at him then, really looked. Their gazes locked for a prolonged moment, and it felt both new and not. It was like they were seeing each other for the first time, but also like coming home. Jason ducked his head down, feeling flayed open and raw under the scrutiny. Roy wished more than anything that he could know what Jason was thinking. He hadn’t anticipated this happening, had no idea how to navigate this. All he knew was the sharp twinge that tugged on his heart as he thought ‘ _Jason. Jason. He’s really here_.’

 

There were so many things left unsaid between them. So much time had passed, they were different people now, had lives that didn’t intersect. But, still, all he hadn’t said still rang true, still felt like it mattered. There were so many words on the tip of his tongue, begging to spew forth. He knew they would likely be unwelcome, and he tried to keep them at bay. But…

 

“You’re beautiful,” Roy murmured, like a prayer.

 

Jason looked at him like he’d grown 3 heads. But within seconds the expression faded, melted away to unveil a deep-seated yearning, a wound that's been untreated for too long. He bit down on his bottom lip.

 

“I’m not the same as I was. I’m not who you think I am.” Jason tried to insist. He wanted to hide behind his last remaining defence. “You don’t know me anymore.”

 

“Yeah, I do, Jay.” Roy told him. “You know me, too.”

 

“I thought I did, once,” Jason scoffed. “I must have been wrong though, because I thought you’d never hurt me.”

 

Roy gasped a little. He felt winded, like he’d taken a punch right to the gut. He’d never wanted to hurt Jason. Never. He’d thought he’d been doing the right thing. He’d thought it was for the best. He had hoped that Jason would’ve forgiven him by now, that maybe Jay would’ve moved on with his life enough to find someone who deserved him.

 

“Maybe...maybe we shouldn't be talking about this,” Roy said. “We can reschedule the business stuff. Bruce can send somebody else to take care of it. You...You don’t need to see me. I understand if that would be easier for you.”

 

Roy needed it to be over. He couldn’t sit so close to Jason and not have him. They couldn’t even have a civil conversation. They could never be anything to each other but a memory, a could’ve been, a what if. It was too much to bare. What was Bruce thinking in forcing them together like this? Jason deserved a way out, so Roy was giving him one. Again.

 

Jason stared for a long time, almost uncomprehendingly. For once, he just wanted Roy to fight for them. All Roy had ever done was let him go, push him away. Roy had clearly recovered well, seemed to have a stable life now, so why was he still running?

 

Jason couldn’t look away from him. There was so much that Jason had never gotten to verbalize, so much that he’d thought Roy hadn’t been ready to hear. He wanted to say _I loved you like I've never loved anything_ . He wanted to say _I think about you every day_ . He wanted to say _I would've spent forever with you if you'd asked._

 

“You broke my heart,” is what came out.

 

“Mine, too. If it means anything.” Roy told him quietly.

 

“It doesn't.” It was too little, too late.

 

Jason couldn’t do this again, couldn't let Roy worm his way under his skin and dismantle the defences he was still attempting to rebuild after the last time. They never got close to what they could've been. Jason couldn't let himself finally have this in its entirety. He wouldn't survive without it later.

 

He cursed Bruce for interfering, for sending him here knowing what it would mean. He might have thought he was doing them a favour, but Jason’s chest felt caved in, like he couldn't breathe. Bruce didn't know how Jason felt every day, with Roy's absence like a living thing inside him, pulsing and painful and demanding to be fed, gnawing away at him until he was wrecked for anyone else. Jason needed to purge himself of it. Maybe that's what Bruce really wanted, for Jason to get closure. Only Roy could give him that.

 

Jason watched as Roy shifted in his seat, his hand began to glide over the table top. _Please don't,_ he thought. _Please don't touch me. I’ll break if you do._ Roy was the only one who had ever made Jason feel fragile. Roy was the only one who'd ever looked at him like he was precious.

 

Roy reached across, laid his hand atop of Jason's on the table. He closed his eyes for a second, his lips held a wistful smile. Jason was trembling, and bit down on his lip to stifle a sob. He wouldn't let Roy break him, not again.

 

With that thought in mind, Jason tugged his hand back. He kept his fists clenched in his lap beneath the table top. Roy looked sad for a moment, but not surprised. They both fell silent for a long time.

 

“For what it's worth,” Roy began, “I am so sorry that I hurt you. God, you'll never know how sorry I am for that, Jay.”

 

“Then why did you do it?” Jason murmured, because he was a masochist that never learned to leave well enough alone.

 

“I thought I was doing the right thing.”

 

“How?” Jason exploded, “For who?”

 

“Both of us.” Roy replied, his voice was unwavering. “I got myself into that mess in the first place because I was too reliant on other people. God, you and me? We were already halfway to codependent by the end. If I let myself start something between us, and then it went to shit, I know - I _know -_ that I would've fallen right back into the junk.”

 

Jason stayed quiet, he found himself gazing at the table top. He couldn't meet the fire in Roy's eyes, the intensity, the sincerity that threatened to gut him. There was nothing he could say.

 

“I couldn't start anything, not with anyone, until I knew for sure that I could get a handle on my shit. And no matter how much I trusted you, I could never be sure that you weren't in it for the wrong reasons!” Roy just kept going, as though he'd wanted to say it all for so long and hadn't thought he'd ever get the chance. It was almost like he was afraid that Jason would interrupt, not let him finish. “We would have grown to resent each other. It would have hurt us both so much more. I thought you could move on, be happy.”

 

Jason gritted his teeth. It was harder now, to stay angry. Despite all the pain he'd been in, what Roy was saying made sense. Somehow, it almost made it worse. “You're a self-sacrificial asshole,” he hissed. He had to close his eyes against the swelling of tears. “And you're a coward.”

 

Roy's mouth hung agape. He'd told his truth, spilled his heart. What he had done, he had never done out of malice. He'd done it out of love. Though Jason’s anger was warranted, Roy couldn't help but find the whole thing a little ironic. He hadn't wanted he and Jason to resent each other, and now Jason resented him for it.

 

Before Roy could even think of something more to say, Jason stood abruptly. “I need some air.” He shoved away from the table and strode out of the restaurant.

 

* * *

 

After a second of numbing shock, Roy came back to himself, and went after him. He found Jason leant against the wall outside, a lit cigarette already between his lips. Without even looking at Roy, Jason held out the box of smokes in an offer.

 

“Uh, no, thanks.” Roy held up a hand in a dismissive gesture. “I'm a total straight-edge now. Slippery slope and all that.”

 

Roy's smile was small, self-depreciating. It burned something in Jason’s chest to see it. Everything was so messed up.

 

“Shit,” Jason murmured, “I’m sorry, I’ll-" he stammered, withdrawing the box and making a move to put out his own cigarette.

 

“Jay,” Roy said softly, he reached a hand out to grasp Jason’s wrist gently. “It's okay. I don't mind. If I couldn't handle the smell of somebody else's cigarette smoke, I wouldn't have come very far, would I?”

 

Jason gazed down at Roy's hand. Maybe it was the winter chill surrounding them, but Roy's skin felt hot, burning to the touch. Jason felt starved for it. It wasn't supposed to be like this. This wasn't supposed to happen.

 

When their eyes met, it almost felt like it used to. For a moment, Jason could pretend that the last 5 years didn't happen, that the destruction of everything they'd had, and that fatal goodbye had been nothing but a terrible dream. It was only then that he realized he was on eye-level with Roy, was even slightly taller. Wasn't that a surreal thing to  think about?

 

Roy retracted his hand slowly. He looked Jason up and down. There was an amused but fond smile on his face. His eyes looked almost misty.

 

“Always knew you'd catch up.” He teased. “You...you look good, Jay.”

 

“You too,” Jason said softly.

 

“Sobriety looks good on me, huh?” Roy quipped.

 

 _Don't joke like that_ . Jason wanted to tell him. _That's not all you are._

 

“So,” Jason started. “A restaurant, huh?”

 

“Yeah,” Roy shrugged. “Started cooking in rehab. Turns out I'm actually pretty good at it. Spent the last five years training, worked at some of the best restaurants in the city. Then Ollie helped me set this place up.”

 

“Impressive,” Jason told him. He took another drag of his cigarette. “I love what you've done with the place.”

 

“Yeah, I’m real proud of it,” Roy said gently. “I’m proud of myself."

 

“For what it's worth,” Jason began. “I’m proud of you, too.”

 

Roy studied him for a prolonged moment. “It's worth a lot,” he whispered.

 

The smile that Roy gave him broke Jason’s heart. He was so close, yet Jason didn't know if the distance between them could ever be bridged. He didn't dare to let himself hope.

 

They stood with their gazes locked. Both of them were overwhelmed, unsure of how best to proceed. There was so much history that lay between them, so much that they could never quite let go of. Could they really walk away?

* * *

 

Before Jason could think of something to say, the universe decided to throw another wrench in the works. This night became more jarring, more emotionally heavy than it was already, with just one word.

 

Jason saw how Roy's eyes lit up as he spotted something across the street. Following his gaze, Jason saw two people staring back at them. One, he recognised as Dinah, she looked exactly the same as when he’d last seen her. But clutching her hand tightly, was a little girl.

 

When Dinah deemed it safe to cross the road, the girl let go of her hand. She took off running, and instinctively Roy knelt down and opened his arms to her. Jason had never seen him smile like that.

 

“Daddy!” She squealed.

 

Suddenly, everything went blank. The world around him faded out into nothing but white noise. Jason barely had the presence of mind to discard his cigarette - he never smoked around children. But inside, he felt hollowed out. Subconsciously, he must have allowed himself to hope. But, confronted with the knowledge that Roy had a _family now,_ Jason knew that he'd really lost. It had been over for a long time. It shouldn't still hurt.

 

Roy swooped the girl up. He pressed dozens of kisses all over her flushed little cheeks. He looked so happy. At least Jason could take comfort from that, Roy deserved to be happy.

 

“Hey princess, this is my friend Jason. Jay, this is my daughter Lian.” Roy introduced, seemingly oblivious to Jason’s inner turmoil.

 

“Hi!” Lian greeted enthusiastically, waving a dimpled hand.

 

“Nice to meet you,” Jason told her. He couldn't help but smile wide, she really was adorable.

 

“Dinah,” Roy addressed, “You remember Jay, right?”

 

Dinah turned her gaze to him for the first time then. Her hand came up to her mouth in shock. She seemed pleased to see him, and Jason didn't really understand why.

 

“My God, Jason. How are you?” She asked.

 

“I’m good, thank you. How about you?”

 

“Same old, same old. Got my hands full with these two.” She gestured towards Roy and his daughter, and rolled her eyes affectionately.

 

Lian stuck her little tongue out at Dinah, and Roy laughed so openly, his head was thrown back with the force of it. Jason found himself chuckling slightly, too. Roy shot a tender smile his way at the sound.

 

“Hey, Li, why don't you say goodnight to Daddy and we’ll get you some hot chocolate before bed?” Dinah suggested.

 

“Okay!” Lian agreed happily, before turning her full attention to Roy.

 

While they were preoccupied with each other, Dinah grasped Jason’s elbow lightly. “He missed you, y’know,” she said quietly, discreetly. “You should talk to him, let him explain.”

 

There was nothing that Jason could say to that. He got the feeling she wasn't looking for a response anyway. She moved away to take Lian from Roy's arms. It really hit Jason then how little he knew about the man Roy had become.

 

“Night, baby girl. Love you,” Roy murmured, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

 

* * *

 

Silence reigned as they watched Dinah take Lian away. Once they were out of sight, Roy cleared his throat. Roy was usually so confident, but now he looked endlessly unsure.

 

“Me and Li live in the apartment upstairs. Dinah’s been watching her for me as I work, and it's nearly Lian’s bedtime.” He explained. “Dinah’ll stay with her until I finish up here, the staff are more than capable of closing up, so I don't have to stay late.”

 

“How old is she?” Jason asked. He couldn't work out the math in his head, couldn't fit all the pieces together.

 

“She’ll be five next summer.” Roy said softly.

 

“But _how_?” Jason breathed, before he could think better of it. For Lian to be that old then…

 

“Her mom and I had some weekend fling because we were rebellious teens who were mad at the world.” Roy stated bluntly. “That's the cliff notes version.”

 

“...And the full version?”

 

“It's a long story, Jay.” Roy scrubbed a hand over his face, and suddenly he looked worn down.

 

“I’m sorry,” Jason said, “I didn't mean to pry it's just....you have a _kid_. I don't- I just...wasn't expecting it.”

 

“Yeah, I can imagine.” Roy sighed. “Her name was Jade. We met at some stupid party. She was a dancer, and her parents were pushing her to go pro. She loved it, but they became obsessed with her getting better and better, pushing her to practise and train constantly. She was acting out, resented them for making her hate something she used to love.”

 

“So one thing led to another, I suppose?” Jason guessed.

 

“Pretty much,” Roy shrugged. “Her parents were overbearing. Mine was never around. We kinda bonded, vented to each other, a kindred spirit type of thing. She was the only one I ever took back to the manor, the only one I ever got to know. Hell, I even kinda liked her.”

 

“Then what happened?”

 

“Nothing,” Roy sighed. “We both knew it wasn't going to be anything. We weren't in the right place for it, lived different lives. It was around about the time that you and I became friends, and I didn't really think about it.”

 

“But, Lian?”

 

“Jade kept it hidden for 4 months. Don't even ask me how she pulled that off. She didn't know what to do, she was some dumb kid. We both were. Then she couldn't hide it anymore, her parents freaked, demanded to know who the father was.” Roy's expression became angry then, his fists clenched. “They wanted Jade to get rid of her, a baby didn't fit into their plan. When they tracked me down, they tried to bribe Oliver, get money for keeping it under wraps, avoid a scandal. I was still in rehab at the time.”

 

“ _Jesus_ ,” Jason breathed.

 

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Roy scoffed. “I told Jade it was her decision, whatever she wanted to do, y’know? She wanted to put the baby up for adoption. She’d never been maternal, she wasn't ready. It was a couple of weeks later when I decided that I wanted our baby, that if Jade wanted to give our baby to someone who could love her, that person should be me.”

 

“That’s…really brave, Roy.” Jason breathed. “You were so young, had so much to deal with already.”

 

“She's the best thing that ever happened to me.” Roy said. “She needed me.”

 

“She saved your life,” Jason breathed.

 

“She did.”

 

* * *

 

They looked at each other for a long time. The hush of evening was almost peaceful between them. They'd both come so far since the last time they'd seen each other, did it really have to matter so much that they'd been apart?

 

“I, uh…” Roy started, cleared his throat when his voice failed him. “I know I had my chance, and I-, I…maybe I've got no right to ask this but…” He stopped again. There was so much determination in his eyes. “Do you think we could go to dinner some time?”

 

Something inside Jason’s chest cracked open. He couldn't believe that this was really happening. It was everything he'd ever wanted, five years later than he'd anticipated, but so much better than before. Words failed him, and his eyes filled with tears.

 

“You're an idiot,” he whispered, before he wound a hand in the fabric of Roy’s shirt and tugged him forward.

 

Roy sank into the kiss, surprised but enthusiastic. Jason melted against Roy's chest, his arms wound around Roy's neck as Roy's arms found his waist. They didn't let up for a few minutes, alternating between gentle presses and deeper kisses.

 

Finally, Roy pulled back. His face was flushed and his breaths were panting. He looked at Jason like he hung the moon. “Is that a yes?”

 

* * *

 

Six months later found Jason wandering into the back kitchen of the Willow Tree. It was deserted, except for where Roy was meticulously measuring ingredients in the corner. His back was to the door, and he didn't seem to be aware that Jason had come in.

 

The soft smile on Jason’s face was a permanent fixture these days. He'd never imagined he'd end up here. Quietly, he crept up behind Roy, and wound his arms around his torso.

 

He felt more than he heard Roy's fond chuckle. Jason leant down slightly to rest his forehead on the nape of Roy’s neck. He squeezed Roy a little tighter.

 

“Hi, baby,” Roy murmured.

 

“Hi,” Jason said, and pressed a kiss between Roy's shoulder blades.

 

So much was different now. Their entire lives had taken so many twists and turns. They'd both come so far. But Jason still loved Roy more than he'd ever loved anything, that hadn't changed. It never would.

 

**THE END.**

 

* * *

 

 

I can't believe it's finally happened. I can't believe it actually came this far. I'm so proud of this fic, and I'm hoping that all of the readers have enjoyed it! When this first started over two years  ago, I had no ending planned, only half of the plot points existed as concepts, and this whole thing only came about because of a skype conversation between myself and [arkhmknights](http://archiveofourown.org/users/arkhmknights/pseuds/arkhmknights), in which I said "I'm a slut for high school aus".

To anyone who may have been around from the beginning, I am endlessly grateful. I'm sorry I made you wait this long. To everyone who has read this, I hope you've grown to love my boys as much as I do. Thank you so much for giving me your time! Though this may be the end of the main story, it's not the last you'll see of my boys. Time stamps are open, and one is already a work in progress.

You can request time stamps [here.](http://oathkeptroxas.tumblr.com/ask)

A soundtrack playlist can be found [here.](https://8tracks.com/jodiestone/white-lies-jayroy)

If you're willing and able to support what I do, I'd really appreciate you buying me a coffee [here](https://ko-fi.com/X8X89DI3).

If you have a tumblr account, I'd really appreciate you helping promote this fic by reblogging [this post.](http://oathkeptroxas.tumblr.com/post/171487404568/its-finally-complete-after-over-2-years-85k)

Thank you all so much!! 


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